Soulworld V  The Coming of Golgotha
by Philip S
Summary: It is the year 2038 AD in the world where all vampires have souls. A series of ritual murders brings Angel and Buffy to New York, where an ancient evil is about to awake deep beneath the bedrock of the city.
1. Parts 1 through 14

Soulworld V  
by Philip S.  
  
Summary: It's the year 2038 in Soulworld and an ancient evil awakens deep beneath the   
streets of New York City.  
Spoilers: This is an AU established in the Soulworld series, no spoilers for the canon. You   
should have read Soulworld I to III at the least, otherwise you will understand very little of   
this story. Those who have read Soulworld IV (which is set after this story chronologically)   
may be a little spoiled already for this one. Just a little, though.  
Rating: R  
Archive: All earlier Soulworld stories are archived at soulworld.shadow-dancing.com  
Disclaimer: The characters of Buffy, Angel, Spike, Faith, Tara, Willow, Cordelia, and Dawn   
are copyright Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The concept of Soulworld and all original   
characters are copyright Yours Truly.  
Title Picture: www.shadow-dancing.com/Pics/Soulworld5.jpg  
  
  
NOTE: This story will eventually feature some things that, after the events of September 11,   
2001, might not be everyone's cup of tea. This is in no way intended to offend those who   
suffered in the attacks, nor is it an attempt to somehow cash in on that catastrophe. I set down   
the original concept for this story before September 11 and, though I thought about changing   
the location, decided to stay with New York City as the setting. I hope no one will take this   
the wrong way.  
  
  
#  
  
  
Part 1 - Deep Down Where the Dead Things Are  
  
  
From the records of the Council of Watchers  
The year of our Lord 896  
  
Many lives have been lost, but the evil has finally been vanquished, the great darkness has   
been averted. Though the majority of the world will never know how close we came to the   
abyss today, those who have fallen here in our cause will be remembered, their heroism will   
not be forgotten.  
  
To our eternal sorrow it has proven beyond our power to destroy the tools of the evil ones. We   
know what they are for, we know what carnage they would unleash should they fall into the   
wrong hands. So it has been decided that, as destruction is not an option, the tools will be   
hidden and buried. Brought to a land where neither man nor demon will ever look for it,   
bound and concealed by magic at the hands of our most accomplished craftsmen.  
  
We can but hope and pray that it will suffice and that the name of Golgotha will never cause   
the children of Earth to tremble with fear again.  
  
#  
  
New York City  
December 14, 2035 AD  
  
"It's the damnest thing I've ever seen, let me tell you!"  
  
Daniel Stone was an architect. It was his job and his passion, raising mighty buildings,   
defying the laws of gravity, touching the skies. Over the last 15 years he had built office   
towers, apartment buildings, shopping malls, everything. His current project, though, would   
be his crowning achievement. Soon to be the tallest building in what was still the most famous   
skyline in all the world.  
  
It went without saying that there would be unforeseen problems. What he wanted to know,   
though, was why they had to spring up this late at night. A Friday night, no less, one for   
which Daniel had made plans involving a beautiful female acquaintance of his, along with an   
expensive restaurant, lots of flowers, romantic music...  
  
Instead he was here. About 200 feet below ground, at what would become the foundation of   
his new building, surrounded by those parts of the building process he really saw no need to   
come any closer to than was absolutely necessary. Dust, dirt, almost complete darkness. All   
because of a phone call made by the chief worker of the night shift, telling him that something   
was wrong with his building's foundations. Something that he thought required his attention   
and could not wait until morning.  
  
No, Daniel Stone had better things to do than be here. Unfortunately for him, though, he   
would never make it to his date. In fact he would stay down here in the darkness, surrounded   
by these things he so detested, for the rest of his life. All thirty minutes of it.  
  
He didn't know that yet, of course.  
  
Also present were two other people, one of whom Daniel really could have done without.   
Peter Fountaine from the New York City Department of Construction was the kind of public   
official that could be found in every city around the world. Dressed in gray, almost identical   
to his skin tone, his religion consisted of forms that needed to be filled out, permissions that   
needed signing, and papers that needed filing. Daniel was sure that, as far as Fountaine was   
concerned, nothing existed outside the New York City limits and nothing existed inside it   
without his permission (or that of his superiors at least).  
  
The other person that had been roused from sleep (or better things) was John Thomas, the   
building project's head of engineering. Daniel considered him a friend and was glad that he   
was here as well. Shared pain was half the pain, or something like that  
  
All three of them were staring at something very, very strange. According to every geological   
survey and echo probing made in advance there should have been nothing below them except   
miles and miles of solid rock.  
  
Instead they were looking at a big hole in the ground that led down into complete darkness.  
  
"Some of my boys dropped some pennies down there." The chief told them. "Didn't hear'em   
hit the floor."  
  
Daniel knelt down beside the hole, shining his flashlight down into the dark. He didn't see a   
floor either. The only thing he did see was a vertical wall, about five or six meters to the right   
of the hole, that led straight down. Very straight. The wall was completely smooth.  
  
"This is not a natural formation." He told the others. "Someone did some extensive digging   
here."  
  
"No digging was ever done here." Fountaine said. "Not in this depth."  
  
"No one that you have a record of, no." Daniel added. "From the looks of things it was   
probably long before the city was built."  
  
Fountaine gave him a very dirty look. Apparently he didn't like being reminded that there was   
a time period before public records.  
  
"There was no clue of any kind of past excavation above." John said. "In fact, if I didn't see it   
with my own eyes, I'd have sworn every oath that something like this couldn't possibly be   
down here."  
  
Daniel nodded. He had been present during the preliminary echo probing of this site. He   
would certainly have remembered had they shown anything of this size.  
  
"What do you think, John?" He asked his colleague. "Magic maybe?"  
  
In present times magic was not the stuff of fairy tales and silly stories anymore, like it had   
been but a few decades ago. It was a part of the world, a big part, and also a very important   
factor in the business. Any business. Workers skilled in magic, vampires with their superior   
strength and senses, other supernatural creatures with special abilities, all those were sought   
after in this as in any other part of the economy.  
  
And every once in a while someone would run into some magic-related problems as well.   
Daniel just didn't understand why it had to be him.  
  
"Possible." John said. "It would explain why this didn't show up during any of the probes.   
Still, if we speculate that someone used magic to create this big an underground hollow space,   
there should have been some signs. The city did have a Seeker check out this site, didn't it?"  
  
"Of course!" Fountaine sounded offended. It was standard procedure to have a Seeker,   
someone attuned to the emanations all magical artifacts produced, check out potential   
building sites. There had been a very spectacular case of an office tower that had been built   
over an old burial site about a decade ago. The tower had been haunted by dead Indian spirits   
for several weeks and over a hundred rich and important people had been struck by terminal   
syphilis and some other nasty bugs. It had done a lot to change procedures quickly.  
  
Daniel looked down into the hole again. The smartest thing would be to leave things as they   
are. Have some experts check it out in the morning. A Seeker, maybe a witch or two. Or some   
vampires. They would be able to see in the dark without much aid. Have them check this   
thing out thoroughly to make sure that everything was in order here.  
  
That would take weeks, of course. Probably months. It might even get his project canceled   
altogether. He would have to explain to the investors how something like this could have   
happened, how they could have missed something this big. There was a lot of money at stake   
here and every day that this project didn't go forward would cost him.   
  
All these thoughts went through his head. Daniel wasn't stupid, though. No matter the money,   
he really did not want to spend even one second longer down here in this darkness. Certainly   
not any further down than he already was. But still, the longer he looked into that hole, the   
more certain Daniel was that there was something down there. Something he should find first,   
before anyone else could. Maybe something much more important than the money he would   
get (or lose) for building this tower.  
  
For a moment he imagined something down in the darkness was whispering to him.  
  
"Let's take a look down below." He told the others. A part of his mind was screaming at him   
that he should start running right now, run away from this place as far as his legs would take   
him. That part was ignored by the rest, though.  
  
"Are you nuts?" John asked him. "We're not equipped for..."  
  
"I just want to take a look, okay?" Daniel interrupted him. "If this hollow space is as big as it   
looks we can't possibly put a building on top of it. We'll just check out how deep this thing   
goes."  
  
John was obviously not happy with the idea, but he nodded.  
  
"I need to inform the city department of this." Fontaine said, giving them both dark looks.  
  
"Inform them of what?" Daniel asked. "We don't know what this is yet."  
  
He knelt down again, checking out the wall he had seen earlier. There was no trace of the   
bottom or any of the other walls that had to be there. There was something else, though.   
Something he was rather certain had not been there the last time he had looked.  
  
"Stairs!" Daniel proclaimed triumphantly, though he was unable to tell what made him so   
happy.  
  
#  
  
Fountaine refused to go down with them, as did all the workers except the chief. So after they   
made another hole into the floor in a spot where they could then reach the mysterious stairs it   
was three of them that went down into the darkness.  
  
The steps looked ancient, yet unused. They were smooth and even, no foot seemed to have   
touched them since the moment they had been cut from the stone, and they were of a size that   
suggested that the beings they had been made for were at least three feet or so taller than your   
average human being. Daniel wanted to count the steps, hoping to get some measure of how   
deep they went, but he kept getting distracted. Something was whispering down below, he   
was sure of that. Something that was talking to him in a sweet and soothing voice.  
  
"We must be more than 400 feet down by now," John said after a while, "no way can we put   
our building on top of this. It would cave in under the weight."  
  
Daniel found himself remarkably unconcerned by John pronouncing the doom of their project.  
  
"I think we have almost reached the floor." He said instead, leading them further down. Their   
flashlights still couldn't penetrate the darkness, the only things they saw where the stairs and   
the smooth wall they went along, deeper and deeper. It was progressively growing colder.  
  
"Daniel, I think we've gone far enough." John stopped walking, putting a hand on his friend's   
shoulder. "We need to have some experts look at this. We're really not the right people to..."  
  
"We're almost down." Daniel interrupted him, shrugging off his arm to go on. "I can feel it."  
  
"Daniel!" John yelled after him as he started sprinting down the stairs. "What's gotten into   
you?"  
  
He did not listen. His feet found the stairs beneath him with a grace and surety that Daniel, a   
man of quite a few pounds, had never possessed in his entire life. Something was calling him   
down, something that pushed all other thoughts aside. One that had sent the rational part of   
his mind into a corner, where it hid and whimpered in terror. He knew that he needed to do   
something. Something important.  
  
Without warning the stairs ended and Daniel kept on running without missing a step. There   
was something ahead of him, something large. Some kind of structure the likes of which he   
had never seen before. His flashlight was unable to provide a good look at it, but what little of   
it he did see produced a feeling of nausea inside him, his mind refusing to give him a clear   
picture for fear of his sanity. He didn't pay any attention to it. There was something else here.   
Something poised on some kind of stone altar right in front of the strange structure.  
  
He needed to have it. Now!  
  
"Daniel! What are you doing?" John's voice sounded out from somewhere behind him.  
  
Blindly groping in the darkness, Daniel's fingers found something lying on the stone altar in   
front of him. Something that seemed to jump into his hand the moment he made contact. It   
was cold metal, but where he touched it there was warmth. Daniel had about half a second to   
realize that he was holding some kind of fancy sword. A sword that was starting to glow in his   
hand.  
  
Then the thirty minutes were up and Daniel Stone died.  
  
#  
  
After disposing of the irksome creatures he found himself surrounded by as he woke the   
Harbinger climbed the stone steps of his prison and reached the surface once more. There   
were some more creatures in his way. Humans, they called themselves, he remembered. He   
had faced them before. On the day he had failed in his sacred duty.  
  
Looking around he saw the lights of a great city, heard the soft whispers of a few million   
fragile little minds. There hadn't been cities like this on this world before, had they? Nor so   
many of these creatures. His memory was returning but slowly, but he was quite certain that a   
lot of time must have passed since they had sealed him in below the earth.  
  
It didn't matter, of course. Whether a year had passed or a millennium, his duty was the same.   
He had a mission to fulfill and fulfill it he would. Grasping the fading thoughts of one Daniel   
Stone, the creature who had awakened him, he broke into a smile. Here was just the way to do   
it. Things couldn't have been better had he arranged them himself.  
  
"We will build a tower." He said to no one in particular, his voice tinged with a passion he   
had stolen from a dying man's mind. "A great and beautiful tower for all to see."  
  
Still smiling he tore himself away from the city he had found himself in. There was much   
work to be done. And now was the time to start.  
  
Soon Golgotha would walk the Earth.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 2 - I Still Got the Christmas Blues For You  
  
Magitech Central  
December 17, 2038 AD  
  
  
Buffy looked around the large ballroom, watched the many people in their pretty dresses,   
nursing their drinks, mingling with the rich and famous. The Buffy of another lifetime would   
have felt right at home here. Would have been the center of attention if she had anything to   
say about it, wearing only the most expensive and fashionable clothing. That Buffy had died,   
though. Many, many years ago.  
  
The current Buffy, though very comfortable with most parts of her life, felt out of place here.  
  
Magitech Central, the corporate headquarters of the world's number one enterprise, was   
almost a city all by itself. Built at the juncture of several ley lines, constructed from materials   
you didn't find in the table of elements, it had in its few short years of existence become the   
pulsing center of America's magical economy. Magitech Inc. had been founded only twenty-  
four years ago, on this day actually, and these days it held more power than many a nation.  
  
All of that would have worried Buffy, if Magitech's owners and directors hadn't been two of   
her best friends.  
  
"Buffy!" She turned to look at the smiling face of one of said friends. "I'm so glad you could   
come."  
  
Willow Rosenberg was showing her age, Buffy thought sadly. She was 57 years old, years   
that showed in the lines of her face and the silver streaks in her long red hair. Most of the lines   
were from smiles, though, and Willow sure didn't seem any less spunky and brilliant than she   
had at twenty. Dressed in a form-fitting green dress she looked quite ravishing.  
  
Buffy, though she was also 57 years old, looked no older than a late twenty. There were no   
lines in her face, her golden hair glittered in the light of the chandeliers, and the black silk   
dress that covered her body from neck to ankles showed her youthful curves. Only in her eyes   
could one see her true age.  
  
"You knew I would." Buffy told her best friend, gathering her in a hug. "It's not every day I   
get invited to a ball where most of America's Who's Who finds itself turned down."  
  
"Actually it's every year on this day," Willow reminded her, "as I need at least a few real   
smiles among the audience. I love my work, but some of the people I have to deal with..."  
  
She made a face that seemed to transform her back into the young witch Buffy had first met   
so many years ago. God, the years had gone by so fast. Hard to believe this was already the   
24th anniversary of the corporation that Willow and Tara had founded, quite literally, in their   
garage back in LA.  
  
"I hear you. Speaking of honest smiles, though, where is that beautiful wife of yours?"  
  
"Oh, Tara is mingling. She would never admit it, but she is much better at this friendly small-  
talk stuff than I am."  
  
A dreamy smile spread on Willow's face as she looked across the room to where her blonde   
lover was laughing with a few tux-clad elder gentlemen. Buffy knew that smile only too well.   
She got it herself every time she looked at her own lover.  
  
"Speaking of beautiful, where is Angel?" Willow asked.  
  
"He should be here momentarily. Darla called him about some Vampirium business. I tell   
you, sometimes I don't know whether she runs Dead Man Incorporated or he does."  
  
Dead Man Inc. was the common nickname for the vast holding company that had grown out   
of the Vampirium, which had gone corporate only a few years ago, thanks in part to the huge   
success of Magitech. Darla, the current leader of the Vampirium, had been named CEO.   
Unfortunately (from Buffy's point of view) she liked to frequently consult Angel about a lot   
of things that concerned the running of the company.  
  
"I don't think she has much chance to tear him away from your side for any length of time."   
Willow said. "I bet he started drooling the moment he saw you in that dress."  
  
"Maybe he did. I was too busy getting my breath back after seeing him in his tux."  
  
The two friends laughed together, interrupted only when a pair of strong arms wrapped   
around Buffy's waist from behind.  
  
"Are you laughing about me, Mrs. O'Conner?" Angel asked, planting a soft kiss on her neck.  
  
"I would never dare do that, Mr. O'Conner." She turned around in his embrace to greet him   
properly.  
  
"Since when?" He teased, earning himself a mock glare from his wife.  
  
"I'll have you know, Mr. O'Conner, that you are an ungrateful bastard on whom a loving wife   
such as I is completely wasted."  
  
"Is that so?" His hand trailed along the line of her body, softly brushing her flesh through the   
thin layer of silk. Buffy had to bite down on her lip to suppress a moan. God, that man really   
knew how to touch her. It was so unfair that he could make her feel this way with but the   
barest brush of his fingers.  
  
"Stop that or I'll embarrass both of us." She said, her voice husky.  
  
"Don't stop on my account." Tara joined them, a big smile on her face. Becoming the co-  
owner of one of the world's largest businesses had done a lot to bolster the formerly shy   
blonde's self-confidence. A decade or two ago a comment like that would never have made it   
past her lips and hearing it from someone else would have caused her to flush a crimson red.  
  
Angel stopped his ministrations, something Buffy really wasn't all that happy about, and   
exchanged a welcoming hug with Tara.  
  
"A great party, Tara. Willow." He greeted the redhead as well. "Darla tells me she will invest   
yet more money in Magitech stocks as soon as the market opens on Monday."  
  
"Tell her she will get her money's worth. Guaranteed."  
  
The four friends managed to shut out the surrounding party and chat with each other for a   
while, catching up on old times. A lot had changed, Buffy thought, since they had all lived in   
the same city, the Hyperion Hotel their regular meeting place.  
  
God, she was really turning into an old woman. Not on the outside, of course, but she kept   
thinking about the past. About the happy times, as well as the bad. About the friends that   
should be here today, but weren't. Kate. Giles. Doyle.  
  
"Get that scowl off your face, Buffy Summers-O'Conner!" A sharp voice interrupted her   
musings. "Just because you don't age doesn't mean your face won't get stuck that way some   
day."  
  
Buffy looked up to see a regal woman in a silver dress approaching, a cascade of graying hair   
trailing down her back. A face of 59 years gave her a scolding look, softened by lips curved   
into a smile.  
  
"Cordy!" Willow cheered happily. "You made it."  
  
"Just be glad I did or Buffy here would have drowned in the Christmas blues all night long."  
  
Senator Cordelia Chase had her hand tucked into the crook of her husband's arm. Peter   
Chase-Robertson was a man of 66 who had aged like fine wine, still looking quite handsome   
in Buffy's opinion. He was not a man of many words, which was okay since Cordy tended to   
talk quite enough for both of them. Many people had been surprised that such a quiet and   
unassuming man had captured the heart of one of America's leading politicians, but not Buffy.   
She knew Cordy good enough to recognize that Peter was just the kind of man she needed.  
  
They were accompanied by their two children. Liam William Chase, aged 34, and Elizabeth   
Katrina Chase, aged 28. Liam, in turn, had come with his wife Gabrielle Chase. Buffy was a   
bit sad to see that none of their three children were along. Okay, so maybe a formal event like   
this was not the right place for three bags of energy between the ages of three and eight, but   
she would really have liked to see them again.  
  
"It's nice to see you, too, Cordy." Buffy smiled, greeting the many members of the Chase   
family.  
  
"I would say you haven't aged a day," Cordy said, giving Buffy a kiss on the cheek, "but then   
again we all know that, don't we?"  
  
Some people might have taken the comment the wrong way, thinking that Cordelia was   
jealous of Buffy's eternal youth. Buffy knew better, though. Cordelia had everything she had   
ever wanted. Immortality was not among these things.  
  
Inevitably Buffy started thinking about all the things she had ever wanted.  
  
"Buffy?" Angel asked, picking up her feelings across the link they shared. The blood bond   
that enabled Buffy to share in his immortality and gave them both the ability to look through   
the other's eyes also had a psychic component. They could not actually communicate without   
words, but they were fully able to pick up the other's feelings.  
  
Cordelia was right, Angel realized. Buffy was feeling blue.  
  
"I was thinking about Cordy's grandchildren." Buffy admitted, whispering so none of the   
others would hear her.  
  
Angel nodded, having expected something like that. They had been together for nearly four   
decades now and the matter of children had come up, of course. Angel couldn't have any, that   
they had both known from the start. Vampires could not have children, some ridiculous   
stories they had heard over the years to the contrary. That alone, though, needn't have stopped   
Buffy from having children, of course. There were numerous other ways, including a very   
recent development in genetics that would even have enabled a genetic engineer to synthesize   
sperm from Angel's own DNA, no matter how dead his body was.  
  
None of that mattered, though, as they had discovered many years ago that Buffy couldn't   
have children, either. Neither could Faith. Looking into the Watchers Council database had   
shown that all Slayers were infertile from birth.  
  
Which had put an end to any children plans Buffy had ever fostered.  
  
Angel sighed, wrapping his arms around her. Buffy was happy, he knew that. But every now   
and then she would long for the things they would never, ever have.  
  
"We'll see them at Christmas." Angel told Buffy, kissing her neck. "All our family will be   
there."  
  
Cordelia considered them all family, he knew. Angel was her big brother, just like Spike.   
Buffy was the sister she'd never had. Willow and Tara were related somehow as well, though   
Angel wasn't sure exactly how. They always celebrated Christmas together and ever since   
Liam and Gabrielle's children had joined the family Buffy spoiled them rotten every single   
time. By now he was sure that, in the three kids' minds, 'Aunty Buffy' equaled big heaps of   
presents.  
  
"I should get another present for Francis." Buffy mumbled, leaning back against her husband.   
Francis was the youngest of the three, only three years old. He always called her 'Puffy',   
which caused his parents embarrassment without end. She just found it cute.  
  
"You already got him four, remember?"  
  
She nodded, sighing. It was the upcoming Christmas, she resolved. It always got her down   
this way.  
  
"Yeah, I remember."  
  
Their musings were interrupted by the buzzing of Angel's com.  
  
"If it's Darla again, tell her I'll take the next flight to Los Angeles and stake her!" Buffy   
announced.  
  
Angel took the com from his pocket, looking at the display.  
  
"It's not Darla. It's Bogomiel."  
  
Which was almost worse, Buffy thought. Ernest Bogomiel was the PID's regional director for   
the United States. The Preternatural Investigation Division, originally a branch of the United   
States' Federal Marshall Corps, had grown into a global organization sponsored by the United   
Nations to deal with preternatural crime worldwide.  
  
Bogomiel was also the closest thing Buffy and Angel had to a boss. They both worked for the   
PID on a case-by-case basis these days, meaning that he couldn't exactly order them around   
like he did his other marshals. He wouldn't call them out of the blue like this if it wasn't really   
important, though.  
  
Buffy took out her own com and patched into Angel's as he took the call.  
  
"Angel, Buffy," Bogomiel greeted them as his hologram appeared before them, "sorry to   
intrude like this."  
  
Buffy smiled at him. She liked the elderly gentleman that ran all PID activities in America   
almost despite herself. He was a real slave driver, but was charming enough that no one really   
minded. Some days she was convinced that he was using some kind of magical whammy to   
make all his people like him so much.  
  
"What is it, Ernest?" Angel asked. They had all known each other for decades now and   
needed no titles between them.  
  
"Something really bad, Angel. When can the two of you be in New York?"  
  
Buffy frowned.  
  
"We're at Magitech, Ernie. Other side of the continent."  
  
"Take the next flight out! We've got a rotten situation in the big apple and I need my best   
people there."  
  
"Always with the flattery." Buffy sighed.  
  
"I'm downloading the details into your coms as we speak. Let me know the moment you get   
there, okay?"  
  
He signed off, leaving Buffy and Angel a bit confused. Bogomiel had never been among the   
most talkative of men, preferring to make his people read the case files he sent them. Still, this   
was brief even for him.  
  
"He's worried." Angel spoke what they both thought. "Very much so."  
  
Buffy called up the files and browsed through the summary. Her face darkened with every   
word she read.  
  
"I think he has reason to." She mumbled.  
  
Less than an hour later Buffy and Angel climbed aboard an airliner headed for New York,   
having made their excuses to Willow and Tara. Neither of them noticed the take-off, as they   
were deeply immersed in the case files.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 3 - Dreams, Murders, and NYPD Coffee  
  
  
Bogomiel's files were as dry and boring as usual and Buffy quickly fell asleep as the plane   
flew through the night across the continent to New York. Angel just smiled as he saw her nod   
off. Watching her sleep was one of his favorite pastimes, truth to tell. He gently removed the   
notebook that was precariously perched on her lap, the latest file still on the screen, and   
spread a blanket over her.   
  
While Angel immersed himself into the case files once more, Buffy started dreaming.  
  
#  
  
"Hello?" Buffy called out, her voice echoing along the empty road she stood in. There were   
skyscrapers on either side of her, huge black concrete towers that reached up into the heavens   
and blotted out the sky. None of the buildings was lit, everything was dark. Buffy stood all   
alone and her breath came out in clouds of white, cold closing around her like an icy hand.  
  
"Why should you care what happens to me?" Someone said. A female voice, young, coming   
from somewhere close by.  
  
"Who is this?" Buffy asked, trying to home in on the voice. What was this place? Why was it   
so dark here? So dark and cold?  
  
"He is coming!" A dark voice whispered to her, seemingly just behind her back. Buffy   
jumped, but there was no one there. Just shadows. Moving shadows. "Soon he will walk the   
Earth!"  
  
"As if you care!" That was the female voice again. This time it was much closer.  
  
There was movement, a dark shape running across the street. No, not running. Dancing.   
Someone was dancing in the street. A female someone, no older than 15 years or so, long   
brown hair trailing out behind her.  
  
"Wait!" Running after her, Buffy couldn't seem to get any closer. "It's not safe for you out   
here!"  
  
Something moved in the shadows, something huge and frightening. The darkness parted   
around it like a curtain and a nightmare rode toward them on a huge black horse with glowing   
red eyes. The rider was clad in dark armor, a huge sword in hand.  
  
"She will die!" He thundered, swinging the sword that glowed in the pale moonlight. "For she   
is the last!"  
  
"I won't let you!" Buffy yelled, finding a sword in her own hands. "I won't let you kill her!"  
  
The girl stopped dancing, looking at her. Buffy could see her face now, a face she had never   
seen before but which seemed familiar nevertheless. Where had she seen that face before? Or   
had she? Maybe she had yet to see it but remembered nevertheless.  
  
"This is just stupid!" The girl sighed. Buffy saw some kind of birthmark on the side of her   
neck. Despite the darkness surrounding them on all sides she could see it clear as day. It   
looked almost like a small snake that had wound itself around a small star. A five-pointed   
star.  
  
Buffy started as the huge black horse came to a stop directly before her, rearing back as the   
rider brought it to a halt. Dismounting, the black knight marched toward her, the sword still in   
hand.  
  
"He is coming!" He whispered, his face hidden by the black armor. "You can not stop it!"  
  
He brought his sword down and it sheared through Buffy's own like glass. Buffy screamed.  
  
#  
  
"Buffy!"  
  
She came awake with a start, panting heavily as she tried to remember where she was. A   
plane? What was she doing ... oh, right. She became aware that Angel was staring at her, as   
were most of the nearby passengers.  
  
"Are you okay?" Angel asked, his hand softly brushing her shoulder.  
  
She nodded, swallowing. Her brow was covered with cold sweat and she shivered, still feeling   
the cold from her nightmare. God, it had been so real.  
  
"Just a dream." She mumbled, trying to assure her husband. "Just a bad dream."  
  
Angel didn't look convinced. No wonder, she thought, he could probably pick up how   
disturbed she was across their bond. Trying to clear her head, Buffy looked out the window.   
The plane was rolling slowly across a moonlit landing field.  
  
"We're already there?" She asked. She hadn't felt the plain touch down.  
  
"You slept right through the landing." Angel said. "What did you dream about?"  
  
He had probably gotten some images, too, Buffy realized. They sometimes shared dreams   
across the bond, sometimes just caught bits of pieces of each other's nightly fantasies.  
  
"I'm not sure." She told him. "Probably nothing important."  
  
They arrived at their terminal and the people started getting up to collect their luggage. Angel   
gave her one last worried glance, then rose as well.  
  
Buffy shook her head again. She couldn't get the image of that young girl out of her head, no   
matter how hard she tried. She was certain she knew her. Or would soon know her, at least.  
  
#  
  
A police car collected them from the airport and brought them into Manhattan. It was   
approaching midnight and much of the city was covered with freshly fallen snow. Holiday   
spirits seemed abroad. Everything was already decked out and made pretty for the upcoming   
Christmas and what people were still about this time of night seemed in good cheer.  
  
Buffy frowned. She really wasn't in the mood for cheery people right now.  
  
Neither the cops that had come to get them nor any of the others they met at the police   
department seemed very cheery, though. Most of them sported grim and disturbed looks. The   
entire department stank of worry, disgust, and anger.  
  
"Marshall O'Conner?" A man in his late fifties came toward them, carrying two coffee mugs.   
He wore a badge clipped to the waistband of his trousers.  
  
"Yes." Buffy and Angel said at the same time, smiling at each other.  
  
"Glad you could come. I'm Captain Trenor of the NYPD."  
  
They shook hands after Angel and Buffy each took an offered coffee mug from his hand.   
Buffy tried not to grimace as she took a sip. Police coffee probably had some kind of   
reputation of badness to uphold. Being a Marshall, first a federal, now an international one,   
had given Buffy the opportunity to sample police coffee all over the world. None of it had   
been particularly good.  
  
"Director Bogomiel gave us some files on what you have here." Angel said as the two of them   
fell into step with Trenor. "The descriptions were a bit vague, though."  
  
So far they only knew that New York, or more precisely Manhattan, had been the site of no   
less than eight ritual murders within the last 72 hours. All performed exactly the same way   
with the same runes and carvings. The latter performed on the bodies of the victims.  
  
"Gathering information has been a bit difficult so far." Trenor sighed. "As you know the   
government hasn't gotten around to approving the necessary funding for full-scale magical   
crime equipment yet. At least not for anything smaller than the federal boys. No offense   
meant."  
  
"None taken." Angel said. They both knew how seriously ill-equipped most police forces   
were to deal with crimes of the preternatural sort. "But are we sure yet these are actual ritual   
killings and not just some deranged people on a devil-worshipping trip?"  
  
The emergence of magic and magical creatures into the light of the public had created a long-  
lasting wave of trends and manias among the population. Buffy had lost count of the number   
of amateur demon-worshippers and Faustian dealers they had had to deal with over the last   
few decades. Most of them hadn't been able to so much as float a pencil, much less summon a   
demon or work dark magic.  
  
"Quite certain." Trenor said. "We're still waiting for the FBI to send us their Seeker to check   
things over, but we improvised by using some of the local talent."  
  
"Local talent?" Buffy asked.  
  
"We have a few witches on retainer, as well as the occasional lent Seeker from the city   
department. None of them are really made for this kind of work, but they've given us quite a   
few useful pointers in the past. All of them agree that this is definitely something magical.   
Black magic."  
  
They entered a staff room that seemed to have been turned into an improvised command   
center. There was a large city map on the wall, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of   
photographs. Buffy could make out eight red dots on the map, spread throughout the city.  
  
"These are the locations." Trenor said, pointing at the map. "All found within the last 72   
hours. We're still trying to determine the exact times of death for the various victims, though."  
  
"How so?" Buffy asked. "Your coroner should have had enough time by now to..."  
  
"That's one of the problems we've had." Trenor interrupted her. "You see ... our coroner hasn't   
exactly been able to perform proper autopsies on the bodies yet."  
  
"Can we take a look at them?" Angel asked, able to think of a number of reasons why the   
coroner could have had problems. If the victims had been killed in the course of a magical   
ritual there was no telling what kind of magical residue might still linger around them. Maybe   
the kind that made it very dangerous for anyone to even think about touching them.  
  
"We'll have to drive to one of the crime scenes for that." Trenor said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"We have discovered the first body about three days ago," he explained, "and we're still trying   
to take it away from the spot we found it in. So far we've had no success."  
  
Trenor shrugged, his attempt at casualness thoroughly ruined by the haunted look on his face.  
  
"They won't come off."  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 4 - Blood in the Snow  
  
  
Trenor took them to one of the murder sites, located in a small side alley on Broadway, just a   
block away from Times Square. The place was cordoned off and several police officers stood   
guard to keep the occasional curious New Yorker from messing up the crime scene.  
  
"This was the first victim we found." Trenor explained as they walked toward the alley. "A   
woman called Greta Heinrich. German citizen. We identified her by DNA scanning. We   
assume she was over here on vacation, though we have yet to find a record of her coming into   
the country. Haven't found out where she was staying here, either."  
  
"Have you contacted her family?" Angel asked, ducking under the police tape.  
  
"She has none, it seems." Trenor read from the small notebook he had along. "Parents died   
over a decade ago. No siblings, not married, no children."  
  
Buffy listened to the captain, but only with one ear. Something about this place was sending   
her Slayer senses into overdrive, her skin tingling as if bugs were crawling all over it. From   
the sensations she received from Angel it seemed he was feeling it as well.  
  
Magic had been at work here. Darkest magic.  
  
When they reached the body Trenor stopped talking, averting his eyes from the scenes before   
him. He had seen it before, of course, and apparently had no intention of refreshing his   
memory. Looking at what remained of one Greta Heinrich Buffy could certainly sympathize.   
She had seen worse in her four decades as the Slayer. Not much worse, though.  
  
The woman couldn't be older than a late twenty, Buffy decided, concentrating on the hard   
facts to keep away the revulsion she felt rising inside her. She was nude except for a kind of   
loincloth wrapped around her hips, just enough to make her halfway decent down there. Her   
chest was bare, giving everyone a good view of what had been done to her.  
  
Greta Heinrich had been crucified. Nailed to the alley wall with steel spikes through her   
palms and feet, leaving her in almost Christ-like pose. Almost every inch of her was covered   
with some kind of symbols or runes that had been cut into her skin, except for the belly area,   
where she had been eviscerated, gutted like a fish. The wall around her was filled with more   
symbols, written in blood. Buffy wasn't able to fool herself into thinking of it as red paint. She   
could smell the blood, as well as other things that had no business leaving the insides of a   
human body.  
  
Which was strange, she thought after a moment, pushing aside the gag building in the back of   
her throat.  
  
"You said this was the first victim you found?" Buffy asked Trenor, surprised at how neutral   
and professional she sounded. On days like this she worried that her job was burning her out,   
robbing her of the ability to feel. How could she look at something like this and be so   
professional?  
  
"Yes." Trenor nodded. "I fear our coroner was unable to ascertain how long she might have   
been dead at that time. You can see why, I guess."  
  
Buffy could indeed see why the coroner might have some problems with determining the time   
of death. 72 hours of hanging nude in a cold alley, snowfall all around, subzero temperatures.   
One sure couldn't tell from her looks.  
  
"She is still warm." Angel spoke first, his hand hovering just above the woman's skin. "No   
signs of frostbite or even a drop of body temperature. It's like she's only just been brought   
here."  
  
Standing close, Buffy could see steam rising from the torn body, snowflakes melting where   
they fell on the skin. Somehow that freaked her out more than everything else.  
  
"The blood should have dried up." Buffy inspected the symbols on the wall. That she didn't   
have to look at the carved-up body while doing that was a welcome bonus. "No way it could   
still be wet after all this time."  
  
Buffy and Angel looked at each other, communicating without words. Something very bad   
had happened here. Was still happening, in fact. Both of them were familiar enough with   
rituals of this kind to know that.  
  
"Whatever magic was raised here is still active." Angel summed it up. "Keeps the flesh warm,   
the blood fresh. For all intents and purposes the body has been frozen at the moment of death,   
that's why you can't remove it from here, either."  
  
"That's what our resident witches said." Trenor agreed. "Something about a magical stasis.   
Whatever it is, it works pretty good, I'd say. We tried pretty much everything short of blowing   
it to bits to get the body down from there. No luck. We even tried to hammer out the entire   
portion of the wall where they fixed her up, but all our equipment died on us the moment it   
got close to this place."  
  
Angel looked at the symbols on the walls, a sense of puzzlement reaching Buffy across their   
bond.  
  
"What is it, Angel?" She asked, stepping closer.  
  
"Some of these runes are familiar, but I can't remember from where. I am certain I've seen   
them before somewhere."  
  
Neither Buffy nor Angel had consciously realized that they had been looking at the crime   
scene in nearly complete darkness until Trenor got out his flashlight and shone it on the   
symbols. Angel flinched back from the bright light, his nearly perfect night vision needing   
time to adjust.  
  
"Sorry," the captain said, "thought they might look more familiar in the light."  
  
"We don't need a lot of light." Buffy told him. "Most of our work is done by night."  
  
Trenor smiled apologetically and was about to put his flashlight away again when its light   
shone on the crucified woman. Something caught Buffy's eye.  
  
"Hold the light there!" She told the cop. "A little higher!"  
  
With the spot of light directly on the woman's neck Buffy went closer. There, exactly where   
she had thought. A small birthmark, looking like ... looking exactly like the one she had seen   
on the neck of the girl in her nightmare.  
  
A shiver went down her spine and not from the cold.  
  
"Angel, take a look at this!" She said without looking away. Angel, clearly picking up her   
distress, came closer.  
  
"A birthmark." He said, not seeing the significance. "It looks like a snake curled around a   
star."  
  
"I've seen that before." Buffy told him. For a moment she was afraid to look up, to look at the   
face of the dead woman and see the girl from her dream. Shaking her head she pushed that   
thought away. This woman was a lot older than the girl. Different hair color, too. Greta   
Heinrich held no resemblance to her at all.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Remember that nightmare I had on the flight over?"  
  
Angel understood. It had happened only a few times before, but sometimes Buffy's dreams   
were more than simply dreams. Sometimes she would dream of things to come. Terrible   
things. Both Giles and Wesley had told them that prophetic dreams had been recorded from   
previous Slayers as well. Visions that would warn them of coming dangers.  
  
"What did you see in your dream?"  
  
"A girl, no older than fifteen, with this birthmark on her neck. At the exact same spot, too.   
She was ... well, she was dancing in the streets and then a black knight on a huge horse came   
riding toward her, saying he would kill her. I wanted to stop him, but ..."  
  
Her voice trailed off. Angel put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a soft squeeze. He knew   
that Buffy feared the effects both this job and her eternal life might have on her feelings, her   
compassion. He, though, could not imagine that she would ever be able not to feel, not to   
care. It just wasn't in her character. As was evident right now.  
  
"Captain Trenor?" Buffy looked up at the policeman. "Did you notice this birthmark?"  
  
He leaned closer.  
  
"Can't say I did. We took complete 3D pictures of the body, though. It's probably filed under   
the physical details or something."  
  
"We should get back to the station." Angel said. "I assume you have complete imagery of the   
other victims as well."  
  
"Certainly."  
  
Buffy nodded. It was just a hunch, but maybe the other victims had this birthmark as well.   
The black knight in her dream had said something about the girl being the last. The last what?   
The last victim maybe? She shook her head. Too little information to make any educated   
guesses.  
  
Angel, meanwhile, was raking his brain trying to remember where he had seen these runes   
before. A long time ago, that much was for sure. Before the Restoration, before the Gypsy   
curse. The days of Angelus, the Scourge of Europe.  
  
He shook his head, the memories just refused to come. He would have to ask Darla about this.   
They had been pretty much inseparable during that time, doing everything together. Maybe   
she would remember.  
  
As they marched back toward the police car, blood-stained now clinging to his boots, Angel   
couldn't shake the feeling that it was very important.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 5 - Carving Up the Big Apple  
  
  
New York City  
December 18, 2038 AD  
  
  
"Now I remember!"  
  
Angel's voice pulled Buffy out of the near-sleep she had fallen into, slumped over on the desk   
Trenor had gotten them. Damn, she had to be getting old. A mere forty hours without sleep   
(not counting jetlag) and she was worn out. Rubbing her temples she looked up, blinking the   
sleep from her eyes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The symbols." Angel said, looking at the printouts in front of them. "I remember them. At   
least I do some of them. They are part of a very basic demonic summoning ritual. Darla and I   
did something like that once in the bad old days."  
  
Needing a moment to process the information inside her tired brain, Buffy walked over to his   
side of the desk and looked at the symbols.  
  
"So someone wanted to summon a demon?"  
  
"I don't think so." Angel shook his head. "I didn't recognize them at first because these   
symbols are always linked to a summoning circle. A pentagram or something similar. Only   
there is nothing of the sort at any of the murder sites."  
  
He leaned back, fighting against his own tiredness. The sun had risen a few hours ago and the   
daylight, even though the shuttered window kept it safely outside the room they had taken as   
their office, was wearing him out.  
  
"Plus, the symbols differ. I'm not sure, but from what I've seen there are at least two different   
arrangements, one containing a lot more symbols than the other. Most of which I don't have a   
clue about, I might add."  
  
She could hear the frustration in his voice. Part of it was due to the fact that they weren't   
dealing with 'just' eight murders anymore. During the last twelve hours the NYPD had found   
three more sites, each of them containing a crucified, eviscerated body, surrounded by runes   
and symbols drawn in blood.  
  
"What did you want so summon a demon for?" She asked to distract herself from her gloomy   
thoughts. "I thought vampires didn't really get along with other kinds of demons back in the   
soulless times."  
  
"They didn't." Angel answered, Buffy hearing the familiar undertone of guilt in his voice. No   
matter how much time had passed, Angel still couldn't help but feel responsible for the things   
his demon had done, no matter how often he professed that he was over it. "We did it mostly   
out of boredom. Darla thought it would be fun. It wasn't, though. The demon just piled up a   
lot of bodies. Nothing we weren't perfectly capable of doing ourselves back then."  
  
Lots of bodies, Buffy shook her head, her thoughts wrenched back to the present. Eleven   
murders so far. God alone knew how many more might be on the way or had already   
happened without anyone discovering them. And they didn't have a clue. Not one.  
  
Buffy's theory about the birthmark hadn't led anywhere, either. Two other victims had the   
mark as well, on the exact same spot as the first one, too, but the others didn't. Neither on   
their necks nor anywhere else. It was strange that three people who seemed to have absolutely   
nothing in common except having been murdered all sported the same birthmark, but Buffy   
couldn't see how it might form any kind of connection with the other victims.  
  
Running her hands through her hair Buffy paced the length of the room.  
  
"This is leading us nowhere! We have eleven victims, three of whom sport an identical   
birthmark, eight of whom don't. They were all frozen in the moment of death, crucified,   
eviscerated, surrounded by at least two different sets of symbols and ..."  
  
Angel suddenly looked up sharply, causing Buffy to stop.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Two types of victims." He whispered to himself. "Two types of symbol patterns."  
  
Picking up on his thought Buffy leaned over his shoulder again, beginning to rearrange the   
printouts from the eleven victims in front of him.  
  
"You think ..." she began.  
  
"Exactly." Angel nodded.  
  
They both looked across the images again, thoughts and impressions running almost in   
parallel through their bonded minds, four hands rearranging the pictures in perfect   
synchronicity.  
  
Both stopped at the same time.  
  
"Here's your link." Angel whispered, his eyes widening. "The three victims with the   
birthmarks are all surrounded by identical symbol patterns. The remaining eight, those   
without the mark, have a different set of symbols."  
  
"So the symbols wary according to the presence of the birthmark." Buffy continued the   
thought. "Mark means more symbols. More powerful sacrifice maybe?"  
  
Angel took another look at the information they had gathered on the three victims.  
  
"Birthmarks of this kind can signify that the one wearing it is part of a magically powerful   
bloodline. Or carries a curse of some kind. But there is no connection between the three. They   
are not related in any way, nor does any of them have a record of magical abilities or past   
experiences in that field."  
  
"Just because it isn't in the records doesn't mean it's not there." Buffy reminded him.  
  
"Right!"  
  
Angel sighed again. They had a clue, but he wasn't really sure what it meant. A lot of people   
were working on this by now, he knew. Darla had assigned a lot of manpower to going   
through the Vampirium database looking for references to the symbols and the ritual. Trenor   
wasn't all that happy about including civilians in this, but both the NYPD database, as well as   
that of the PID, had come up empty already. Unfortunately the Vampirium's database was   
only partly digitized. The rest was rooms upon rooms filled with ancient books, most of them   
not containing something as useful as an index, and that meant searching for anything in   
particular would take a long while.  
  
Here in the city a lot of cops were out on the streets, hoping to catch sight of the killers by   
sheer luck, but Angel feared this was a doomed attempt. Made even worse by the fact that   
there were currently plenty of other things to keep New York's finest busy. The city was   
experiencing a severe increase in street crime, a trend that had been climbing for the last three   
years and had risen sharply these last few months.  
  
Angel had also seen some reports that local asylums and psychiatric hospitals were currently   
overflowing. An as yet unexplained wave of mental traumata, nightmares, and psychosis had   
washed over the city, leaving experts and amateurs alike without a clue.  
  
Almost as if caused by magic, Angel thought.  
  
"We need to find out what this ritual is supposed to accomplish." He told Buffy. "Or might   
already have accomplished."  
  
"You're thinking about the general craziness going on in this city?"  
  
They had made a detour through the holding cells earlier. They had been overcrowded, too   
say the least, and many of the people inside them screamed and cursed without break, their   
eyes filled with madness and insanity. An almost tangible air of malevolence seemed to hang   
over the city, enough to make the hairs on Buffy's neck stand up straight.  
  
"You talked to those witches Trenor has on retainer earlier, didn't you?" Angel asked. "Did   
they say anything useful about this birthmark?"  
  
"Same as you." Buffy shrugged. "Could be this. Could be that. I got the feeling they were   
every bit as clueless as we are. To tell you the truth, none of them struck me as particularly   
experienced."  
  
Angel looked up at her, guessing what she was going to suggest next.  
  
"Think about calling in the pros?"  
  
"There has to be an upside to being best friends with the two most powerful witches on the   
continent. Apart from enjoying the perks of corporate life now and then, I mean."  
  
"Trenor will be thrilled about dragging more civilians into this."  
  
They heard shouting from outside. Opening the door, Buffy saw a policeman running through   
the staff room and into Trenor's office. Sharpened senses allowed her to her every word. He   
was reporting that a patrol car had found yet another victim. Buffy closed her eyes, closing   
the door again.  
  
"Somehow I don't think he will object." She said sadly.  
  
"I guess."  
  
Angel walked over to pull her into a brief hug, both of them feeling an almost physical chill in   
their bones. Twelve lives extinguished and they still didn't know what for. Only that it was   
going to be bad. Or maybe it already was.  
  
"I'll call Willow and Tara." Angel said, letting go of her again. "After that I think we should   
try and make a picture of that girl you saw in your dreams. The one with the birthmark."  
  
"You think she's real?" Buffy asked.  
  
"If she is, and if she has that mark, we have to find her. She is probably in deadly danger."  
  
Buffy remembered the image of the black knight she had seen in her dreams, riding toward   
that helpless young girl with murder in his eyes.  
  
'She will die!' She could hear the cruel voice in her head. 'For she is the last!'  
  
"I'll ask Trenor to hook me up with their phantom sketcher." Buffy said, hugging herself.   
"They should have the whole holographic imaging equipment around here somewhere."  
  
'I'll protect you!' She vowed. 'He won't get you!'  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 6 - Some Days It Doesn't Pay to Always Be Right  
  
  
A mere four hours after Angel placed a phone call to Magitech Central in California a private   
jet landed at JFK airport, having crossed the continent in record time. Anyone not knowing   
the people in question might have scoffed at the idea that the leaders of a multinational   
enterprise would just drop everything and take off to help some friends at a moment's notice.  
  
Those who knew Tara and Willow would never have doubted it.  
  
Even before the plane touched down Tara knew that something was wrong. She had always   
been good at reading auras, receiving psychic impressions. A lot of times she could tell   
whether someone had negative intentions without even trying, seeing them radiating outwards   
every bit as easily as other people saw colors.  
  
New York city was shrouded in dark red. The entire city seemed suffused with an air of fear   
and malevolence, hanging above the skyscrapers like a storm. The wind reeked of dead   
things, old death. Tara felt the need to shower, to scrape this feeling off her skin lest it taint   
her, too.  
  
Willow was nowhere near as good a psychic, but she was very attuned to the feelings of her   
wife.  
  
"What is it, baby?" She asked softly as they prepared to disembark.  
  
"I'm afraid Buffy and Angel didn't call us out of a fancy, Will." She said. "Something bad is   
going on here. I can feel it."  
  
"Bad in what way?"  
  
They picked up their tools and bags. Their lives included a lot of business meetings these   
days, but it hadn't been that long ago that the two of them had stood in the middle of battle   
along with their friends, fighting for their lives. Both were accomplished fighters and, despite   
their age, had stayed in shape, not just physically.  
  
The twin swords Firefang, magical blades forged by the Dragons, went under their long coats,   
the pockets of which were filled with everything one might possible need for offensive and   
defensive spells. They each slung a bag with clothing and more supplies over their shoulder,   
walking down the gangway.  
  
"It reminds me a bit of the impressions I received from Angel's hotel once. You remember   
how he told us about the paranoia demon he exorcised from there back in the 1950s? Even   
decades later it had left a ... a stench of its presence."  
  
She looked at the skyline of the city in the distance. The sun was slowly sinking below the   
horizon, dipping the landscape in glorious colors. Tara wasn't fooled by the lovely picture.  
  
"It's like that, only a thousand times stronger. Not so much like something that was here once.   
More like something that ..."  
  
"Will soon be here?" Willow finished the sentence, sensing some of what Tara was picking   
up.  
  
The blonde just nodded.  
  
#  
  
A limo was waiting to take them into the city, stopping in front of the police department   
Angel and Buffy had told them about. The streets were filled with people in the pre-Christmas   
spirit, carrying shopping bags aplenty, and about half a dozen Santa Clauses just in this small   
area. The deceptively serene picture wasn't enough to distract Tara from the headache she was   
getting from the stench hanging over the city.  
  
"It smells of blood." She told Willow as they walked inside. "So much blood."  
  
"Angel said they had a dozen victims so far."  
  
Tara shook her head. "I think they're wrong. Way wrong."  
  
Willow gave her a worried glance, but Tara refused to say anything more at this point.   
Picking up all these impressions was one thing, making sense of them was quite another.   
Often she would know things, but could not explain how she knew them. Something told her,   
though, that there were more than a dozen victims by now.  
  
Much more.  
  
"Can I help you?" The sergeant at the front desk asked.  
  
"Marshalls Angel and Buffy O'Conner are expecting us." Willow said. "We're Tara and   
Willow Rosenburg."  
  
The policeman seemed unimpressed by their names, which was surprisingly pleasant, Willow   
thought. They had been called the Bill Gates of the 21st century and there weren't a lot of   
people these days who didn't know their names, if not their faces. Going about in private had   
gotten almost impossible for them.  
  
A phone call later Buffy came down the stairs toward them, a look so tired on her eternally   
youthful face that almost made the two witches gasp. Rings were beneath her eyes, her blonde   
tresses hanging down limply. Tara visibly flinched when she saw the air of frustration and   
despair surrounding her friend.  
  
"Will, Tara!" She greeted them with none of her usual cheer. "Thanks a lot for coming."  
  
Willow banished all thoughts of hugging her friend. This was not a joyous occasion and Buffy   
wasn't in the spirit for hugs. She seemed in desperate need of sleep, though.  
  
"Of course we came." Tara said softly. "After what you told us..."  
  
"We found yet more victims." Buffy said without preamble, her voice worn out and lifeless.   
"The body count is up to twenty-three now."  
  
Tara closed her eyes, shaking her head. Why was she always right about such things?  
  
"Did you find out anymore about the ritual so far?" The witches and the Slayer walked up the   
stairs into the office Buffy and Angel used.  
  
"Nothing. Darla is looking into it, just like the PID and just about every other federal agency   
you ever heard about it. Angel was right about some of them being from basic demon   
summoning rituals, but that's all we have. No one seems able to make sense of the rest."  
  
"You said something about a birthmark." Tara remembered. "Found on some of the victims."  
  
"Five of them so far." Buffy nodded. "All of them are surrounded by special editions of those   
symbols. Identical down to the last brush stroke. If they used brushs."  
  
Buffy's puns sounded tired and forced.  
  
"We should take a look at one of the murder sites first." Willow said as they stood in front of   
the map with the red dots. "Maybe Tara can ... Tara?"  
  
Tara was staring at the map, the red dots that signified snuffed human lives standing out like   
bloodstains. Something about the image it made caused the hairs on the back of her neck to   
rise, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Something hovered just outside her grasp,   
something she saw but couldn't quite make sense of.  
  
Her eyes trailed over the spots, passing that on Broadway and the one on Fifth Avenue, both   
of whom were marked with an 'x', too. Three dots without further marks were situated along   
Franklin D. Roosevelt Drive, close to the United Nations building. An x'd dot was on   
Eleventh Avenue, close to a few others without an x sprinkled among the warehouses near the   
harbors.  
  
It seemed like a random collection, scattered over the city without pattern or system. The only   
thing that seemed certain was that all murders had occurred in an area that started just south of   
Central Park and ended at about 23rd Street.  
  
"Are the ones with the x those with the birthmark?" Tara asked without looking away from   
the map.  
  
"Yes." Buffy said, frowning. "Can you make anything of it?"  
  
"I'm not sure." She confessed. "There is something there, but ..."  
  
Her headache kept pounding beneath her temples and Tara closed her eyes to rub her   
forehead.  
  
"Sorry. Maybe I'm imagining things. All the fear hanging in the air is giving me a headache.   
A big one."  
  
"OH MY GOD!" Someone yelled.  
  
The three women turned around. Angel had walked in the door, followed by a young woman   
neither of them had seen before. She seemed about eighteen years old, if that much, jet-black   
hair trailing down her back. She was dressed all in black, too, and carried an abundance of   
charms and necklaces.  
  
"This is Selina." Angel made the introductions. "She's been helping the NYPD with their   
magic-related cases and ..."  
  
"It's really you!" Selina interrupted him, walking up to Tara and Willow with a look of pure   
excitement on her face. "I can't believe it."  
  
Tara narrowed her eyes for a moment, reading the girl in front of her. Selina was powerful,   
that much she could tell immediately, but the power was mostly undirected, more potential   
than actual ability. She might become a very crafty witch some day, but still had ways to go.  
  
She also radiated so much excitement and joy that Tara had to look away for fear of going   
blind.  
  
"I'm your biggest fan in the whole world!" Selina rambled, stepping from one foot to the   
other. "When they said you'd be coming to help I thought they were making fun of me. But   
you're really here. I've got the book you wrote about modern witchcraft. And the one about   
the founding of Magitech. And ..."  
  
"Selina!" Angel said, putting a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Sorry," she smiled sheepishly, "I always do this when I get excited. I was just ..."  
  
"Excited." Tara said, smiling at her. It was hard not to be infected by her cheer. "There is no   
need to, though."  
  
"I'm sure this case will be solved real quick now that you're here!" The young witch forcibly   
kept herself from jumping up and down. "I mean, I tried to figure this out, but I'm still rather   
new at this. The two of you, though, ..."  
  
"Have you been to one of the murder sites, Selina?" Tara interrupted her, now able to sense   
some of the impressions hidden underneath Selina's cheery exterior. A flash of horror passed   
over the girl's face, giving Tara all the answer she needed. Selina's aura visibly darkened,   
weighed down by the memories those few words had brought to the surface.  
  
"Yeah, I did." She said, looking down. "It was horrible. I ... I got sick from the stench and I ...   
well, I ..."  
  
"It's okay." Tara assured her. "May I?"  
  
Selina looked at her extended hand, puzzled for a moment, then understood.  
  
"Sure! I would be honored! No problem, you can read whatever you ..."  
  
Tara grabbed her hand before she could fall into a new ramble, establishing a connection   
between them. The girl's excitement washed over her like a wave of sunshine, distracting her   
for a moment, but then Selina concentrated on the things Tara wanted to see.  
  
A second later Tara regretted grabbing her hand.  
  
Cold! Blood! So much blood! The stench of death, dead flesh! A soul frozen in the moment of   
death! Screaming, still screaming! The magic, so dark and cold! Old death! Old fear!   
Surrounding her! Suffocating her! So cold! Trying to pull her under, down to where the dead   
things were! So much darkness!  
  
Something was looking at her from the darkness. Something with eyes of flame.  
  
Tara stumbled, letting go of Selina's hand. Her stomach heaved as revulsion ran through her   
and she barely managed to keep from throwing up the lunch they'd had on the plane. Willow   
was by her side in an instant, supporting her when her shaky knees threatened to give out.  
  
"My God!" Tara whispered, looking green around the edges. Her hands were shaking.  
  
"Did I do something wrong?" Selina asked, worried. "I didn't mean to ..."  
  
"Don't worry!" Tara said quickly, not wanting to girl to blame herself. "It was just ... what you   
saw ... you're a strong psychic, Selina! Be thankful you don't have enough training yet to   
really see all you have perceived there."  
  
Buffy and Angel walked closer to her, all signs of tiredness gone from the Slayer's face for the   
moment.  
  
"What did you see, Tara?" She whispered. "What are we facing?"  
  
Tara swallowed, looking over at the city map again.  
  
"I'm not sure." She said, feeling that the picture hidden in those dots was getting clearer by the   
second. "Something is going to happen. Something is coming. Something old and terrible. I   
could almost see it and ... and ..."  
  
Willow pulled her closer, only now realizing that one of Tara's blonde tresses had turned a   
silvery white.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 7 - The Girl of My Dreams  
  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!"  
  
Buffy looked over the shoulder of the police officer who worked the crime computer. Angel   
had almost manhandled her onto the couch a few hours ago, forcing her to sleep for a while.   
She felt a little better now, though they had found another two bodies during the two hours   
she had been out. That, coupled with Tara's violent reaction to Selina's impressions from the   
crime scene, pretty much erased all the positive effects of sleep.  
  
Together with Angel and some phantom artists from the NYPD she had sketched a picture of   
the girl from her dream before falling asleep and the computers had worked hard to find her   
ever since. Now it seemed they had finally managed.  
  
A hologram flared to life in front of her, showing the now-familiar girl.  
  
"That's her!" Buffy said. "I'm sure of it."  
  
"Her name is Dawn Heywood. Born March 3, 2023. Parents Melanie and Henry Heywood.   
Looks like the girl is a bit of a troublemaker. She was arrested for shoplifting once, that's why   
we have her in the computer."  
  
"Do you have an address? Does she live in New York?"  
  
"Sure does. Here it is, West 23rd Street. Corner of Eight Avenue."  
  
Right at the edge of the killing zone, Buffy thought.  
  
#  
  
Not wasting any time Buffy grabbed Angel and barely ten minutes later their car screeched to   
a halt in front of a large apartment building on West 23rd Street, corner Eight Avenue. It was   
in the middle of the night, barely a person out on the street.  
  
"This is it?" Angel asked, looking up the building, making a mental note never to let Buffy   
drive again when she was this agitated. He loved her, but his wife wasn't a good driver under   
the best of circumstances.  
  
"Yeah." Buffy hesitated a moment, looking out the nearly abandoned street they stood on.   
Flanked by large skyscrapers, dark night sky above them, it almost looked like the street she   
had seen in her dreams. Without wanting to her eyes scanned the nearby side alleys for a   
black knight riding a black horse, a huge sword flashing in the moonlight.  
  
There was nothing, though. Just darkness where the city lights didn't reach.  
  
"Let's go!" Buffy said, checking the gun she wore under her coat.  
  
The Heywoods lived on the fifteenth floor of the building, but no one answered when Buffy   
rang the door bell. Making their way up to the apartment they found themselves standing   
before a closed door with an unmistakable smell emanating from behind it. A smell all too   
familiar to both of them.  
  
"Blood!" Angel whispered, drawing his gun.  
  
Buffy pushed down the ice-cold fear clenching her stomach. Was she too late? She had   
promised to protect the girl, even it had been in a dream. She couldn't be too late, could she?  
  
Without waiting any longer Buffy kicked open the door, storming inside with Angel half a   
step behind her. They had done this a thousand times, each of them knowing exactly where   
the other was and what area of the room they had to cover. Business as usual.  
  
Both of them froze two steps beyond the door, though. Froze and stared at the scenery in front   
of them.  
  
"Merciful God." Angel whispered.  
  
The stench inside the room was almost overpowering, making bile rise in Buffy's throat. Flies   
were buzzing around the sorry remains of what might have been a human being once upon a   
time, spread out over the floor like a shattered toy. Every inch of the floor was coated with   
dried blood, soaking the cheap carpet.  
  
On the far wall hung a female body, crucified in a pose that was agonizingly familiar to them   
by now, surrounded by symbols drawn in blood. The remains of the second body were spread   
out beneath it like an offering to a vengeful god.  
  
Angel scanned the apartment for threats, then put his gun away. Whatever had happened here   
had happened several days ago, judging by the sorry state the carved-up body was in. They   
were much too late. The woman crucified to the wall was like all the others, not a mark of   
decay on her. And, judging by the symbols surrounding her, she carried the birthmark.  
  
"Melanie Heywood, I guess." Angel said, looking at the woman's face. There was a lot of   
resemblance to the girl Dawn there.  
  
"Is ... is this ...?" Buffy said, gesturing at the remains at their feet.  
  
"I don't think so." Angel tried to assure her. "From what little I can make out this was the   
body of a man. Probably the father, Henry Heywood."  
  
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, only too feel incredibly guilty a moment later. How could she   
be relieved when two people were lying dead before her? Two people who were the parents of   
the girl she was looking for. She mumbled a brief prayer that Dawn had not seen this done to   
her parents. No one should be forced to see something like this.  
  
"Mrs. Heywood has the birthmark." Angel said, having checked the crucified body. "There is   
no way to be sure about Mr. Heywood, I fear, but as he hasn't been crucified ..."  
  
"Something different happened here." Buffy said, forcing the rational part of her mind to the   
surface, banishing everything else for the moment. "This is the twenty-sixth victim we've   
found, but so far no one else has ever been killed at the murder sites. Why do you think they   
killed him in this way instead of crucifying him, too?"  
  
She hated herself for the cold and analytical sound of her voice. Some days she almost hated   
Angel for the way he was able to deal with things like this so casually. It wasn't his fault, of   
course. She herself was beginning to grow casual with these things. Nothing monstrous about   
that, just human. See it often enough and even the most gruesome sight ceases to make an   
impact on you.  
  
She hated it.  
  
"I don't think Mr. Heywood was meant to be a victim." Angel said. "They were after his wife.   
Maybe his daughter. Odds are he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."  
  
"His own home." Buffy added.  
  
Angel nodded sadly.  
  
#  
  
Half an hour later the apartment was filled with policemen, securing what little there was in   
the way of evidence, gathering up the remains of Henry Heywood. Just like with all the others   
there was no way to remove Melanie Heywood's body from the wall.  
  
"No sign of the girl." One policeman reported to Buffy and Angel. "Her room is over there,   
but nothing seems out of place. She is probably out partying or something."  
  
"I don't think so." Buffy said. Her eyes were drawn to a framed photograph standing on the   
table nearby. It showed a happy family, parents and daughter, smiling on a sunny day. "Her   
father was killed at least two days ago, maybe more. Odds are she came home and ... found   
her parents."  
  
"Then she's on the run." Angel said after a moment of silence. "Frightened and alone. She   
could be anywhere."  
  
The policeman took out his com. "No record of any other family in the city. According to the   
neighbors she has grandparents somewhere in Georgia, but they didn't know the names or   
address. We're trying to track them down. Maybe the girl ran to them."  
  
Buffy shook her head. She couldn't say how she knew, but she was certain that Dawn was still   
in the city. Certain that whatever was after her wouldn't just let her leave. Whatever was going   
on, it would happen here in Manhatten. And Dawn was part of it somehow.  
  
"We have to find her." Buffy resolved. "And fast!"  
  
#  
  
Dawn didn't know how long she had been running and hiding. Two days? Three days? She   
couldn't tell anymore. Her stomach was grumbling, reminding her that she hadn't eaten   
anything in quite a while. Her clothing was dirty, the thick winter jacket she wore not enough   
to keep her warm in the cold alley she had last slept in.  
  
Something was after her. The same thing that had ... that had killed ... oh, god, her parents   
were dead. They were both dead. This had to be a nightmare. Any moment now she would   
wake up and the nightmare would be over. She would be back home with mom and dad,   
telling them about the good grade she had gotten for her science project.  
  
They were dead! Oh god, they were dead!  
  
Dawn saw something move in the shadows at the end of the alley and started running again.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 8 - Last Exit Salvation  
  
  
There was fresh snow falling down from the skies and Dawn shivered, clutching the dirty   
winter jacket closer. All around her the people were going about with smiles on their faces,   
carrying shopping bags full of presents to give to their kids in a week's time.  
  
Kids that still had their parents.  
  
Dawn stopped walking as the despair threatened to suck her under. She couldn't breathe,   
clammy hands closing around her heart. Oh God, her parents were dead. Someone had broken   
into their home and ... and ... done that to them. How could one person possibly do this to   
another? To her parents? They had never hurt anyone. Why? Why did this have to happen?  
  
"You okay, kid?"  
  
She opened her eyes to look into the eyes of a man who had stopped, looking down at her   
with a worried glance. Dawn didn't see the worry, though. She only saw a stranger. A stranger   
like the ones who must have broken into her home and ...  
  
"Stay away from me!" She yelled, running down the street as far as she could, leaving a very   
puzzled man behind, who shrugged and went on his way again.  
  
Dawn kept running until her feet hurt too much to continue, resting against a cold stone wall.   
She had to do something. Go to someone. She was only fifteen for God's sake, how was she   
supposed to handle something like this? She wanted her parents. Mommy and daddy would   
know what to do. They always knew, even when Dawn had gotten herself into major trouble.   
They would scold her, give her a lecture maybe, but they would always ...  
  
Mommy and daddy were dead!  
  
She had lost track of the tears rolling down her cheeks. They were hot when they first fell   
from her eyes, but then cooled in the winter weather, freezing on her cheeks. Her small body   
was shaking with sobs, a cold far more terrible than the December frost had settled deep   
inside her bones.  
  
Made all the more terrible by the fact that she knew something was still after her. The things   
that had killed her parents. She had never seen them, but she knew. Somehow she knew. They   
wanted her for reasons Dawn couldn't even guess, wanted her dead, wanted to do to her what   
they had done to her parents.   
  
She couldn't banish the face of her mother, slack, her eyes still open and so empty. So very   
empty. Her mother couldn't have eyes like that. They were supposed to be filled with warmth   
and love. Not empty.  
  
"Mommy!" Dawn whispered.  
  
Maybe it hadn't been her father down on the carpet. Those ... those things ... all red and ... so   
many things ... maybe her father was out on the streets, looking for her even now. He had   
always been there to protect her. She remembered the time a bad man had tried to touch her.   
Her daddy had been there to keep him away. He couldn't be gone. He would find her and   
protect her. He would ...  
  
He was dead! Just like her mother.  
  
Dawn sagged to the ground, ignoring the cold seeping through the bottom of her pants.   
Hugging her knees close to her chest she tried to figure out what to do now, tried to figure out   
a way to get past the pain and the shadows that seemed to have closed around her until she   
couldn't breathe anymore.   
  
She had dreamed about it. Just the night before ... before it had happened. Dawn remembered   
but a few impressions, but she knew that it was related to ... to what had been done to her   
mother and father. She remembered something moving in the darkness, something that   
wanted to hurt her, kill her.  
  
She also remembered a blonde woman appearing out of nowhere, trying to protect her. She   
had never seen that woman before in her life, yet somehow she had seemed familiar. As if   
something inside Dawn recognized her or something about her.  
  
"Who are you?" Dawn somehow felt that the strange woman might hear her whispers. "Why   
did my parents have to ... have to ..."  
  
Fresh sobs broke from her throat. She had to do something, but she couldn't think. There was   
so much pain, so much cold. She couldn't handle this. She was just a kid, a kid who had just   
lost ...  
  
"Dawn!" Something moved in the shadows, something that was whispering her name.  
  
"No!" Dawn started running again, not caring in what direction as long as it was away from   
that ... whatever it was. She didn't want to know what was chasing her. If she turned to look it   
would get her, it would ... it would do to her what it had done to her parents.  
  
"Dawn!" The whispering was closer now, seemingly just a step behind her.  
  
"Get away from me!"  
  
Dimly aware that she was running through yet another alley she looked for a way to escape, to   
hide. This thing was surrounding her, boxing her in. Dawn had tried to get out of the city,   
maybe head for Georgia where her grandparents lived. She couldn't, though. Every time she   
had begun to do something other than run and hide in stark fear the shadows had appeared,   
cutting her off, sending her running back into the alleys.  
  
Was there anything to New York but dark alleys? Shouldn't the sun have gone up by now?   
Dawn didn't know and she was too scared to form any coherent thoughts at all. The shadows   
were after her again and she could hear them whisper, telling her what they would do once   
they caught her.  
  
"You are the last," they whispered. "You will open the door."  
  
Dawn didn't know what the shadows were talking about and she didn't care. She didn't want   
to know. The only thing she wanted was for them to go away, to disappear and give her back   
her parents, restore her to the world she had lived in until everything had been torn away in a   
single night. Some small part of her kept hoping that this was all a nightmare, that she would   
wake up any moment now, looking into the worried face of her mother who had heard her   
trash and scream while she slept. Mom would make it good with a smile and a caress and all   
of this would just fade away.  
  
Only it didn't happen. She knew it wouldn't.  
  
The alley ended and Dawn burst out onto the street, some street she didn't recognize. Cars   
sped past here, some of them swerving wildly, honking as they tried to avoid hitting her.   
Dawn was barely aware of them, didn't even notice that metal death was brushing past less   
than an inch away. She only knew that death was behind her, the shadows churning and   
wavering as they trailed after her.  
  
"Look out!" Someone yelled and Dawn found herself yanked aside by strong arms. Moments   
later a truck thundered over the spot she had been on a heartbeat earlier.  
  
"What do you think you're doing, girl?"  
  
She looked up at the man whose arms were around her. He wore a police uniform, but Dawn   
didn't see that. He was just another stranger, one who was holding her for the shadows, which   
were coming closer with every passing second.  
  
"Let me go!" Dawn screeched, trying to break out of his arms. "They're coming after me! Let   
me go!"  
  
"Who is after you?" The cop asked, looking around for whatever might have frightened this   
girl so much. She had come out of the alley across the street, but there was nothing there.   
Nothing but empty shadows.  
  
"What's up, George?" A second cop came over from a parked police car.  
  
"Please let me go!" Dawn was crying, pounding her small fists against her captor's chest.   
"Please!"  
  
"Something has spooked her but good. I don't know ..."  
  
"Hey, isn't that ..." The second cop looked at Dawn, then quickly ran back to the car,   
returning a moment later with a sheet of paper in his hand. A sheet that showed Dawn's face.  
  
"That's the girl everyone is looking for," he told his partner, excitement ringing in his voice.   
"The one connected to the killings."  
  
"What?"   
  
Both of them studied the sheet, then looking at the face of their unwilling captive again.   
Dawn's struggles had almost ceased, the girl reduced to a shivering bundle of sobs. George   
gently lowered her to the ground, trying to make her look into his eyes.  
  
"Dawn," he asked her. "Dawn Heywood?"  
  
"I want my mommy," Dawn sobbed, refusing to acknowledge them. "Please, I want my   
mommy."  
  
George sighed, taking her into his arms until she was cradled against his chest.  
  
"Let's take her to the station." He carried her toward their car. "I guess those marshals will be   
glad to see her."  
  
Somewhere on the way back to the station Dawn finally fell into troubled sleep, once again   
seeing the face of the mysterious blonde woman who promised to protect her.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 9 - Comes a Horseman  
  
  
The shadows watched as the girl they sought was brought into the police building. They had   
been in this time and place long enough to know everything about it, including the fact that it   
was wise to stay out of sight of this world's authorities until their plan had reached fruition.   
Had they been able to feel such emotions as frustration it would have irked them that they had   
to hide from such pitiful creatures.  
  
As it was they simply reported what they saw to their master. Reported that they had finally   
tracked down the last of their prey. Shadows closed around the police station from all sides,   
waiting for whatever orders their master would give them.  
  
Their master was pleased and decided that it was time for the hiding to cease.  
  
#  
  
Buffy was almost running by the time she reached the interrogation room, where two armed   
policemen were standing guard with grim looks on their faces.  
  
"Marshal O'Conner," she introduced herself by flashing her badge. "The girl is in there?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am. She was brought in twenty minutes ago."  
  
"And you left her in there all the time? Alone? After what she went through?"  
  
Before either of the cops could react to Buffy's shout of indignation she brushed past them   
and opened the door.  
  
The interrogation room was little more than a gray cubicle, about five by five meters, with a   
table and several chairs standing in the middle. A large mirror on one of the walls allowed   
people from the neighboring room to look in without being seen. A lamp above the table was   
the only source of light.  
  
A sobbing figure was huddled in one of the corners, a large blanket wrapped around her   
shoulders almost swallowing her up.  
  
"Dawn?" Buffy asked softly, walking closer.  
  
The girl's head shot up, showing Buffy a face streaked with tears, eyes red and puffy from   
hours, maybe days of crying. The look of fear and terror on the girl's face almost wrenched a   
sob from Buffy's own throat.  
  
It was the girl from her dream. There was no doubt about it.  
  
"I ... I know you," Dawn said, her voice barely audible. "Who are you?"  
  
Buffy was confused for a moment, but then shook her head and went to kneel down beside the   
child, putting a warm smile on her face.  
  
"I am Buffy O'Conner, Dawn. I'm a marshal with the PID."  
  
Dawn just looked at her, her eyes shimmering with yet more tears.  
  
"I ... I saw you. In a dream." Dawn wiped the tears away with her sleeve. "You said ... you   
said you would protect me."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened on hearing this. Was it possible they had shared the same dream? God   
knew she had seen stranger things than that in her many years. Not much stranger, though.  
  
"I had a dream about you, too." Buffy put a hand on the girl's shoulder, feeling her shivering.   
"We've been looking for you for a while now."  
  
For a moment Dawn looked at her with the barest shimmer of hope in her eyes, but then she   
shook her head and looked away, squeezing her eyes shut.  
  
"This is just stupid," she mumbled.  
  
She had said the exact same words in her dream, Buffy realized. In the exact same tone of   
voice, too. This was getting creepy even for her.  
  
"It's not stupid, Dawn." Buffy edged closer to the girl, everything inside her screaming to   
take her into her arms and protect her from the world, no matter what it took. What was going   
on here? Why was she having such strong feelings for a girl she had only just met? "I promise   
I will do my best to protect you, but I need your help doing it."  
  
"My help?"  
  
"You ... you know what happened to your parents?" Buffy really didn't want to ask her that,   
not after everything this poor child had gone through, but she had the terrible feeling that time   
was running out on them. The body count was rising with every passing hour, almost like   
clockwork.   
  
Or maybe a countdown.  
  
So far they had miraculously managed to keep the public in the dark about it, but even   
without news about the grizzly murders the air of fear and malice that hung over the city was   
growing worse. It had led to the first signs of unrest, a sharp rise in petty crime and violence.   
The police was barely able to keep the lid on the powder keg New York city was quickly   
becoming.  
  
Whatever was going to happen would happen soon. And Dawn was their only clue.  
  
"My parents, they ..." Dawn's voice broke.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Dawn, but I have to ..."  
  
"As if you care!" The girl edged away from her, pressing herself closer into the corner. "They   
weren't your parents. You didn't have to see ... to see ..."  
  
Ignoring yet one more déjà vu from her dreams Buffy closed the distance again, softly   
brushing loose strands of hairs from Dawn's face.  
  
"I care, Dawn," she just said.  
  
For another long moment the girl just stared at her with anger in her eyes, but then the barriers   
broke and three day's worth of sorrow and despair came pouring out of her.  
  
"Mommy! Daddy!" Dawn buried her face in her knees, sobbing.  
  
Buffy finally reached out and gathered the girl into her arms, letting her tears soak into her   
shirt, rocking her like she would a baby. Dawn clutched her as if drowning, holding on to the   
last solid thing in her entire world.  
  
"They took them away," Buffy could make out between sobs. "Then they came after me."  
  
"Who, Dawn? Who came after you?"  
  
"The shadows. The shadows."  
  
#  
  
Angel was two stories above the interrogation room, but he felt Buffy's emotions across his   
link. Her desperate need to help this girl, to keep her safe. Just like her he wondered where   
these feelings came from. Buffy was a compassionate woman, he never doubted that, but from   
the fierceness of her feelings one would think she was the girl's sister or mother, not a total   
stranger.  
  
Just one more thing they didn't understand about all this.  
  
"Any luck?" He approached Willow and Tara, who had taken up camp in the staff room with   
the ominous city map. A map that was sprinkled with lots and lots of red dots.  
  
Every dot signifying a snuffed life.  
  
"Not much," Willow admitted sadly, rubbing her tired eyes. "We have managed to identify   
about half of the runes used in the murders without the birthmark. Nothing terribly special   
there, just basic demonic summoning runes like you already guessed. The funny thing is that   
all of these runes normally require a conjuring circle or something to actually make the demon   
appear, but there is no such thing at any of the murder sites."  
  
"And the others?"  
  
"They ...," Willow began, only to be cut off by Tara.  
  
"What did you just say?" The blonde witch was staring at the city map again.  
  
"Say about what?"  
  
"About what was missing."  
  
"Missing? Oh, you mean the conjuring circle. Yeah, these runes require a conjuring circle to   
make a demon appear, something to function as the doorway between dimensions. Only there   
is no ..."  
  
"Yes there is," Tara said.  
  
She had been staring at the map for hours now, trying to see the picture she was certain was   
hidden in there somewhere. Now Willow's words had provided the final spark she had been   
missing. Now Tara could see the picture clear as day.  
  
"Give me a pen," she told Willow and Angel without turning around.  
  
Moments later someone dropped the required object into her hand and Tara began to draw on   
the map. Five straight lines and a circle later she stepped back and a shiver ran down her back.  
  
"Your circle, Willow," she muttered.  
  
Angel and Willow could only stare at what Tara had drawn. A giant pentagram, carved right   
into the face of the city.  
  
At the same moment someone began to scream.  
  
#  
  
The sergeant manning the front desk of the police station barely had time to scream when the   
doors in front of him suddenly exploded inward without warning, showering him with broken   
glass. The last thing he saw was a giant black shape, a huge horse carrying a man in night-  
black armor, swinging a glimmering sword.  
  
A sword that connected with his neck a moment later.  
  
"Find her," the Harbinger thundered as shadows poured into the station behind him, blacking   
out every source of light in a heartbeat. "Bring her to me! Kill everyone that stands in your   
way!"  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 10 - Disrespecting the Law  
  
  
  
All the lights in the police station went out at the same time, plunging the entire building into   
utter darkness. Even Angel found that his superior night vision barely managed to penetrate   
the cloak of shadows that seemed to have fallen over them. Some windows were open, but no   
light fell in from outside.  
  
Some floors below there were screams.  
  
"We are being attacked!" He drew his guns, jacking rounds into the chambers in the same   
motion. Considering the case they were working on he wasn't quite sure the guns would be of   
any use, even with the runes carved into the bullets, but it was better than going barehanded.  
  
A faint glimmer filled the room as Willow conjured a witchlight.  
  
"There is something unnatural about this darkness," the redhead said. "My light should be   
much brighter than this."  
  
Angel spent a moment checking on Buffy through their link. His wife was feeling troubled,   
her being prepared for battle and worried about the child with her, but that was all. Whatever   
was attacking them hadn't reached her yet.  
  
There were more screams.  
  
"Stay here!" Angel looked at the two witches. "Try to figure out what is attacking us! Lift the   
darkness if you can! I'm going to check this out."  
  
Willow nodded, Tara already occupied with trying to sense the source of the shadows   
surrounding them. Angel gripped his weapons and stormed out the door.  
  
The corridors were almost empty, nearly every member of the NYPD was out on the streets   
trying to retain control over a city that was rapidly moving toward an explosion. What people   
were there stumbled around in the dark, some of them trying to get flashlights to work. Only   
they wouldn't turn on, not one of them.  
  
"The coms are all dead," someone yelled.  
  
Just like the lights, Angel thought. Something was disrupting all working technology in this   
building. Angel was quite familiar with such spells. It was one of the reasons why he had   
never switched to using any of the more modern, electronic handguns. His old Winchester   
Magnums were antiques, but they worked just fine and didn't care about spells that disrupted   
electronics.  
  
He heard another scream, much closer this time. Though he had a hard time seeing anything   
in the thick darkness that rippled all around him he did make out a large shape coming toward   
him, its heavy footsteps making his ears ring.  
  
Did the shape carry a sword?  
  
Instinct made Angel duck at the last second, something sharp brushing past his head so close   
that he felt the air move. A few strands of his spiky hair fell to the ground, neatly severed.   
Dropping to the ground Angel fired several shots in the direction where he had seen the large   
figure disappear.  
  
The bullets flared as they hit the walls, bursting into light as the spells they contained were   
released, and at least one of them hit something other than the wall. For a split second Angel   
saw a large, armored shape stand out in a flash of magical light, then everything went dark   
again. An inhuman grunt filled the corridor and something heavy toppled to the ground.   
  
The darkness around him seemed to grow lighter.  
  
"Felt that, didn't you," Angel whispered to himself, carefully edging closer. It was just a gut   
feeling, but this had been far too easy to be over already.  
  
There was some light falling in from a nearby window, street lamps finally penetrating the   
shadows. It was enough for Angel to see his enemy for the first time. A large, armored figure,   
no way to determine the gender underneath the black steel that encased it from head to toe. A   
large, intricately carved sword rested in one of its hands, the shiny blade stained with freshly   
spilled blood.  
  
There was a hole where Angel's bullet had gone in. Right in the throat.  
  
Angel couldn't make out any signs of life. From this close he should have heard the heartbeat,   
should have made out the sound of breathing. There was nothing there, though. Either this   
creature was dead or something very much inhuman. He suspected the latter.  
  
Keeping his gun lined up on the armored head Angel nudged the figure with his toe, which   
produced no reaction at all. Angel became aware, though, that someone was moving toward   
him from behind. Someone very much alive and with a heartbeat that was doing flip flops.  
  
"Marshal O'Conner," he heard the familiar voice of Captain Trenor call out. "Is that you?"  
  
"It's me, Captain. What is the situation?"  
  
The captain came to a stop a few feet away, panting hard. "I am not exactly sure. Something   
attacked us. We've got at least three men down, probably more. Some of the people a floor   
below said something about shadows attacking them, creatures made from dark mist trying to   
choke them. Only it all stopped about a minute ago."  
  
Which would put it at the same moment Angel had shot down this black knight.  
  
"This isn't a shadow, captain." Angel gestured at the form lying at his feet. "Whatever it is,   
it's very much substantial. Almost took my head off with that sword."  
  
A moment or two before Trenor knelt down to take a closer look something inside Angel   
cried out for him to stop the cop. He was too slow, though. A movement caught his eye,   
something that flashed in the light of the street lamps. It brushed past him, armored fingers   
letting go of a sword that was suddenly filled with a life of its own.  
  
"Captain, look out!" Angel jumped back, trying to line up on the moving blade, but   
everything happened much too quickly.  
  
A heartbeat or two after the sword left the hand of the prone figure the black armor around it   
vanished, leaving behind the body of a slightly overweight man in his late thirties, unseeing   
eyes staring up at the ceiling, blood seeping from a bullet wound in his throat.  
  
Trenor had a moment to shrink back from the perceived movement, raising his hands to   
protect his face from something that moved much too fast for him to see clearly. Something   
that flew right into his open hand, his fingers closing around it out of reflex.  
  
"What the ...," Trenor managed, then he fell silent.  
  
Angel could only stare as darkness spread from where Trenor had reflexively caught the   
sword, surrounding his body in a matter of seconds, solidifying a moment later. Only seconds   
had passed when an armored figure stood where Trenor had knelt, looking at Angel from   
inside a black helmet with eyes of red coal.  
  
"Good shot," The Harbinger growled, stolen lips spreading in a smile beneath his helmet.   
"Want to try that again?"  
  
The darkness grew thicker once more and fresh screams sounded out around them as the   
shadows came alive again with deadly intent.  
  
#  
  
Selina almost ran right into Willow's unsheathed sword when she barreled into the room,   
slamming the door behind her, looking like all of hell was but one step away. Which probably   
wasn't that far from the truth, Willow thought.  
  
"You guys won't believe what's going on out there!" The young witch was panting, all awe   
forgotten as she was shaking with fright.  
  
"Get back from the door," Willow yelled at her, standing protectively in front of her wife who   
had retreated into a trance. Tara was going to bring down the darkness that was boxing them   
in and she depended on Willow to defend her while she did that.  
  
And it looked like Willow would get ample opportunity to do that any moment now.  
  
Selina dove for the floor as the door exploded behind her, shadows seeping into the room   
behind her. They were almost impossible to make out amidst the prevailing darkness,   
featureless shapes that rippled and churned as they flooded forward, their malevolence almost   
tangible.  
  
"Stay down, Selina!" Willow raised her hand and muttered a word of power. Light spilled   
from her palm, pushing back the darkness, surrounding herself, Tara, and Selina with an   
unearthly glow. One of the shadows reached out with something that almost looked like a   
hand, only to flinch back as if burned, small contrails of smoke rising where it had touched.   
An inhuman screech made Willow's ears ring.  
  
"Witches," one of the shadows hissed.  
  
"Smart guy!" Willow thrust forward her sword, the dragon-forged blade penetrating the spell   
of protection she had put up around her friends. The metal tip touched the nearest of the   
shadows, igniting it like a candle as dragon fire spilled across the dark shape, which screeched   
even louder than before as it was devoured alive. Or maybe not alive, Willow couldn't tell.  
  
For a moment she thought she saw a human shape somewhere inside the darkness, but it   
vanished before she could be sure.  
  
The other shadows drew back, making the witch think for a moment that they might actually   
be safe. She had to rectify that opinion, though, when the shadows spread out over the walls,   
covering it like black paint. The entire room seemed to shudder and plaster rained down on   
Willow's head.  
  
"This is not good," she murmured. A moment later the ceiling came down on them and Selina   
screamed.  
  
#  
  
Buffy had no idea what was going on outside, but her Slayer sense was screaming at her.   
Something wicked this way comes. She had learned a long time ago to trust her instincts.  
  
She felt as Angel reached out to her across their bond, trying to ascertain her safety. For a   
moment there was nothing except the two of them, soothing emotions spilling into one   
another until she couldn't tell where she stopped and he began. Then they parted once more,   
having made sure that neither of them was in mortal danger at the moment.  
  
Dawn was still in Buffy's arms, shivering in fear.  
  
"That's them!" The girl curled deeper into Buffy's embrace. "When they come the lights go   
out. I know it's them."  
  
"The shadows you mentioned?" Buffy gently caressed the girl's hair, hoping to relax her   
some. "What are they?"  
  
"I don't know! I don't know! They killed my parents! These things and ... and the large one.   
The one on the horse."  
  
The horse? Buffy had seen a black knight riding on a black horse in the same dream that had   
shown her Dawn. As pretty much everything else from her dream had already come true ...  
  
A scream rang outside.  
  
"We should get out of here!" Buffy pulled Dawn to her feet.  
  
"I'm not going out there!" Dawn tried to shrink back into the corner. "*They* are out there!"  
  
"Which is why I don't want to face them in a room with just one exit."  
  
Not waiting for further protests Buffy pulled Dawn along, kicking open the door that led into   
the corridor. The first things she saw were the two uniformed cops who had stood guard over   
Dawn just moments ago. Something was holding them up in the air, choking the life out of   
them.  
  
Something made from darkness.  
  
"The girl," a hiss echoed through the corridor. "We have found the girl!"  
  
"Dawn, run!" Buffy pulled her along, running down the corridor as fast as her feet could carry   
her. A moment later, realizing that Dawn would never be able to keep up with her, she swept   
the girl up in her arms and ran with every bit of speed she had.  
  
The shadows were but a step behind her. "The girl," they kept hissing, more and more of them   
appearing from the walls and floors.  
  
"She must not escape!" A new voice thundered through the corridor, seeming to come from   
everywhere at once. A voice Buffy had heard before. From the lips of the black knight she   
had seen in her dreams. "She must die! She is the last!"  
  
Buffy didn't stop, didn't dare turn around. She could feel them snapping at her heels, could   
feel ghostly hands snatching at her back. Her entire being was reduced to but one thought.   
Flight. Get Dawn to safety. Nothing else mattered.  
  
"BRING IT DOWN," the black knight's voice thundered once more.  
  
'Buffy, run!' Buffy felt Angel across their bond, willing her to escape with such fierceness   
that she could almost hear the words inside her head. The entire building shook as if a giant   
fist had struck it, the walls creaking all around her, protesting as an incredible force tore them   
apart.  
  
Buffy didn't slow down, just barreled right through the steel door that was one of the   
building's side entrances, nearly taking it of its hinges. Her feet touched the concrete of the   
street and kept going. A thunderous screech followed her as the entire police department   
folded in on itself, caving in like a house of cards.  
  
'Angel,' Buffy screamed out, throwing a look over her shoulder, her steps faltering. Reaching   
through the bond she searched for a sign of her husband.  
  
'Run!' The connection was faint, but she could hear him. He was alive, or as close to it as he   
ever was.  
  
Shadows were seeping from the wreckage where the dust had only begun to settle. Buffy took   
but another moment to compose herself, realizing that Angel was probably safer right now   
than the shaking girl in her arms. A building coming down wouldn't kill him.  
  
She spared a thought to Willow and Tara, all the other people who had been in there. Then   
she started running again.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 11 - Things You Can Find Among the Wreckage  
  
New York City  
December 20, 2038 AD  
  
#  
  
  
Spike was not a happy camper.  
  
There were numerous reasons for that actually. One was the fact that it was the middle of the   
day, meaning that good little vampires should be in bed, sleeping the sleep of the dead. Only   
that wasn't exactly possible at the moment, seeing as there were places he needed to be.  
  
Said place being in the middle of New York City. As far as big cities went New York was   
quite a good place for a vampire. The tall buildings cast plenty of shadows for the undead to   
move around in even in brightest daylight. Still, Spike didn't like New York. Mostly because   
the place held a lot of bad memories for him, but also because the city stank. Stank of fear and   
malice.  
  
The reason for Spike to be in a place he hated during a time he normally slept at could be   
summed up in one word. Angel. Once again his poof of a sire had gotten himself into plenty   
of trouble. Trouble that a certain vampire master called Darla thought he would need help   
with. And, seeing as Darla was the head of the Order of Aurelius and Spike's grandsire, the   
job had fallen on his shoulders.  
  
Not that he wouldn't have come even without orders from Darla. Angel wasn't just his sire,   
he was also his best friend. The two of them had gone through hell together, had changed the   
entire world by working the Restoration of Souls. The moment he had learned that Angel was   
involved in that freak collapse of a police building in New York he would have been out the   
door and on his way here. That was, if Darla hadn't told him to come here first.  
  
So here he was, smack in the middle of New York at noon, standing in the shadow of a   
skyscraper, and wondering what to do next.  
  
The collapsed police building was about a hundred meters away from him, surrounded by lots   
of policemen, rescue workers, reporters, and the obligatory crowd of spectators. From what   
Spike had heard they had dug up only very few bodies yet, which was mostly due to the fact   
that there hadn't been a lot of people inside when it happened. New York's crime rate was at   
an all-time high and most policemen didn't even have the time to sleep, much less rest their   
feet on their desks.  
  
Of the people who had been inside, though, four were Spike's friends. Willow, Tara, Buffy,   
and Angel. None of them had been found yet.  
  
Spike could have helped with that, of course. He shared a bond with both his sire and his   
sire's blood-bonded mate. If they were in there he would find them. The only problem with   
that little scenario was the daylight which surrounded the wreckage on all sides, not a shadow   
in sight. Spike couldn't exactly sniff out the locations of his friends while bursting into   
flames.  
  
He hated sunny days.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing here?" The angry voice sounding out behind him was painfully   
familiar to Spike. Turning around he found himself looking at a dark-haired woman that, even   
after all this time, still managed to get his blood in an uproar. Though not in a good way right   
now.  
  
"Faith," he sighed. "Just what I needed to make my day."  
  
It was hard to believe that there had been a time when the two of them had been inseparable.   
A time when Spike had thought that maybe Faith could take the place of Dru in his heart.   
Faith wasn't Dru, though, never would be. Maybe that had been the reason for their   
separation. Or maybe they had just gotten fed up with each other after being together for   
nearly two decades.  
  
Faith still looked mighty fine, he had to admit. They had just found out a year or so ago that,   
due to the superior healing powers that was part of her being the Slayer, Faith was aging at a   
very slow rate. She was in her fifties, but certainly didn't look the part.  
  
"Just answer the question, Spike!"  
  
"I'm not here for you, if you're asking, pet. Has more to do with the fact that the big poof got   
himself into trouble again." He nodded toward the remains of the police building.  
  
Faith paled. "Angel was in there? Is he all right?"  
  
"That's the big question, isn't it? To return the favor, what are you doing in the big apple?"  
  
Faith and Spike had been in the bodyguard business for a few years, mostly working together,   
but after a while that hadn't been fun anymore. These days Spike was pretty much doing his   
own thing; need for cash sometime drove him to work for Darla and the Vampirium. Last he   
had heard of Faith was that she was keeping herself above water by working as a preternatural   
bounty hunter.  
  
"Had some business here in New York." Faith kept looking at the wreckage. "Lots of creepy   
crawlies around here as of late. These last few weeks things have gotten worse and worse, but   
I can't figure out why. I've been having a lot of weird, Slayer-style dreams. The last one was   
about some kind of girl trying to escape from a collapsing building. When I woke up and   
heard about this building coming down, well ... here I am."  
  
Spike gave her a worried look. Unlike Buffy Faith had never been much interested in the   
more arcane parts of being the Slayer. If these dreams got her this worked up something bad   
was going on. Something really bad.  
  
"It wouldn't be much of a problem for me to sniff out Peaches among the wreckage," Spike   
told Faith, "there is just that little issue of daylight."  
  
Faith nodded.  
  
"They found someone alive," someone near the wreckage shouted, causing spectators and   
reporters to converge on the source of the shout like a plague of locusts.  
  
"Get your ass over there, Faith," Spike yelled at the Slayer. "If they're digging out Peaches   
the sun's gonna fry him."  
  
Without even so much as a scathing retort Faith ran toward the place where her keen eyesight   
could make out several rescue workers pulling someone out of the wreckage. She leaped over   
the assembled crowd and the police barricade without slowing down, several stunned   
policemen looking after her with their mouth's hanging open.  
  
Faith skidded to a stop just in time to see two paramedics lift a body on a stretcher. A female   
body.  
  
"Willow!" Faith was by her side in a moment. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Get behind the barricade," a cop yelled at her. "You're not authorized ..."  
  
"It's okay," Willow interrupted him, looking up at Faith. "She's a friend."  
  
The witch's voice was barely more than a whisper and she looked extremely tired, but Faith   
could see no visible wounds. A moment later two more figures emerged from the freshly dug   
whole amidst the rubble, one a young woman Faith didn't know. The other woman, though,   
the one leaning heavily on the younger woman's shoulder, was another matter.  
  
"Tara," Faith went over to them. "You were here, too?"  
  
"Good thing she was," the woman beside her said with a tired grin on her face. "The two of   
them kept the rubble from smashing us into paste with a force field."  
  
Tara gave Faith a smile. "Willow's quick thinking saved us. Otherwise ...," she shrugged,   
leaving the sentence unfinished.  
  
"Will she be all right?" Faith turned to look at the paramedics that were treating Willow.  
  
"She seems unhurt," one of them said. "Just worn out a lot. Probably fatigue from maintaining   
a protection spell for so long. They were under there for twelve hours or so."  
  
Willow was already fast asleep, Faith saw, so she turned back to Tara.   
  
"Where are Angel and Buffy?"  
  
Tara closed her eyes, a sad expression on her face. "I have no idea. Angel left us about five   
minutes before the building came down, looking to investigate what was going on. Buffy was   
some floors below, talking to that girl she saw in her dreams."  
  
Girl from her dreams? Faith frowned. Had Buffy seen the same girl she had seen? It was   
certainly possible. Whatever power sent those prophetic dreams to the Slayer might just   
deliver them in stereo to the both of them.  
  
"Spike is over there in the shadows," Faith pointed toward the nearest building. "He could   
probably sniff them out, but there is that slight problem with the daylight."  
  
"I think I can do something about that." Tara looked at the young woman at her side. "If   
Selina here can maybe lend me some strength. I'm afraid I'm a bit worn out myself."  
  
The younger witch beamed at her.  
  
#  
  
Ten minutes later Spike was scrambling across the ruins of the building, protected from the   
sunlight by a black cloud that always hovered exactly two meters above his head, casting a   
pool of darkness about ten meters across. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have been   
too keen to trust his life to a spell done by two very tired witches.  
  
These weren't normal circumstances, though.  
  
Angel was alive, that much he was sure of. No one could really put the bond between a sire   
and his childe into words, but Spike would have felt it had he died. So, following that logic,   
Buffy had to be alive as well. Because of the bond they shared the death of one would also be   
the death of the other.  
  
Faith was hovering at this side the whole time, anxiousness coming off her in waves. The   
entire area had her instincts screaming 'Bad Mojo' without break. These last few weeks she   
had been here in New York she had sensed that something worse than the run-of-the-mill   
critters were plaguing this place and now she was sure. From what little Tara had told her   
about what had happened inside the police station it was something she had never seen before.  
  
Living shadows. No, certainly not part of her résumé.  
  
Spike suddenly came to a stop and narrowed his eyes, looking down at the wreckage they   
were currently scrambling over. Faith herself felt a soft tingle somewhere inside her belly, the   
one that normally said 'here be vampires'.  
  
"Peaches is down here," Spike yelled over to the rescue workers. Not waiting for them he   
started digging with his bare hands, shortly joined by Faith.  
  
Even before any of the workers could get to them across the treacherous terrain they had   
managed to lift away several large boulders, revealing the body of a certain black-clad   
vampire.  
  
"You sure took your time," Angel squeezed out through a ribcage busted in several places.   
His left arm was smashed and broken, as were both his legs. A human being would have been   
dead instantly. As it was the vampire was just hurting. Quite a lot.  
  
"Don't be such a wimp, peaches!" Spike knelt down to check him over. "Must be getting old.   
Since when does a building collapsing on top of you slow you down?"  
  
"I'll have you know I was well on the way to digging myself out."  
  
A couple of paramedics arrived, looking a bit reluctant to step beneath the magical cloud   
above them. Seeing Angel, though, all thoughts of dark magic vanished, replaced by a flurry   
of activities.  
  
"He's a vampire," Spike reminded them as the started lifting him out of the hole. "Make sure   
he stays out of the sun!"  
  
The paramedics just nodded, not stopping in their work. Having to treat vampires was still a   
rare occurrence, mostly because the undead could heal most wounds without any help, but it   
was part of basic training these days. They knew what to do.  
  
"Where is Buffy, peaches?" Spike hovered over his injured friend as they carefully loaded   
him onto a stretcher. "She still under there?"  
  
"Never was," Angel managed, every word an effort. "She got out along with Dawn."  
  
"Dawn? Who is Dawn?"  
  
"I can fill the two of you in," Tara interjected. "Let them take Angel to the hospital."  
  
Spike nodded, stepping aside. Tara made sure that the black cloud remained above them until   
they reached the ambulance and Spike was safely into the shadows again.  
  
Angel spent most of his concentration on keeping the pain he experienced out of the bond to   
Buffy, instead just letting her know that he was safe now. He also knew that Buffy and Dawn   
had gotten away from the shadows, whatever they had been, and were now hiding out for the   
day.  
  
The last thing he saw before he allowed unconsciousness to take him was the rescue workers   
digging yet another body from the wreckage. The body of one Captain Trenor, torn and   
broken, no black armor on him anywhere.  
  
Then everything went dark.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 12 - It's Always Darkest Before Dawn  
  
New York City  
December 21, 2038 AD  
  
#  
  
  
Buffy sat on the windowsill and stared out into the slowly lightening darkness that lay over   
the city, letting the cool air wash over her. There was fresh snow on the streets again,   
sparkling like thousands of little diamonds. The second-longest night of the year was almost   
over and soon the sun would rise once more, giving everyone the illusion of safety and   
happiness, at least for a little while.  
  
Not her, though. Buffy was more than old enough to know that most evil things didn't care   
whether it was dark or light, they found their prey regardless. Still, it was in this hour, just   
before dawn, that she usually felt most at peace. The Slayer inside of her, still attuned to the   
hours of its primary prey, was slowly going to rest, while the human she was, always would   
be, was waking up for the day. It was as if these two sides of her personality passed each   
other, one heading for work, the other heading towards sleep, and gave each other a brief   
handshake before they went on.  
  
The only problem was that today peace eluded her. She had a strong suspicion that it had   
something to do with the girl tucked into bed not five feet away from her, sleeping a very   
troubled sleep that left her sweating and clutching the sheets.  
  
Once again Buffy tried to make sense of the strange feelings she had for this girl, whom she   
had never met before yesterday night. Her eyes fell on the strange birthmark visible on   
Dawn's slender neck, glistening with her sweat. Why did she wear this mark? What did it   
mean?  
  
"Every member of my family has it," she remembered Dawn saying when they had first taken   
refuge in this hotel room. "On my mother's side, I mean. Always the same, always in the   
same place. My mother said it meant our family was blessed."  
  
Tears had risen to Dawn's eyes saying this, thinking off her mother.  
  
Buffy sighed. She didn't like this, hiding out in a hotel room for the second night in a row   
now, doing nothing. Well, not quite nothing. She was taking care of Dawn, protecting the girl   
from whatever evil force was after her, but she wasn't really accomplishing anything. She still   
didn't know why these shadows or the black knight wanted her. They had said she was the   
last. The last of what?  
  
Then there was Angel, who had nearly gotten killed, just like Willow and Tara. By now she   
knew they were all right, but a lot of other people were not. Nearly thirty people had died in   
that collapsing building and she didn't know why. They were still finding fresh ritual murder   
victims and she didn't know why. The city was going more and more crazy around them with   
every passing second and still they didn't have a clue.  
  
The only time Buffy had left Dawn alone in the last 24 hours had been when she had spotted a   
man chasing a woman through the street below, catching her and intending to rape her. Buffy   
had hurried down and beaten him up, probably a little more than she should have. There was   
violence hanging in the air and even she couldn't escape it completely.  
  
What had shocked her, though, was the fact that she hadn't been the only one who had seen   
this guy chasing after the woman. Hadn't been the only one who had seen him almost rape   
her. No, there had been other people. People leaning out of the windows on both sides of the   
street, watching, but none of them doing anything to help. Just watching, some of them with   
smiles on their faces. Smiles that sent chills down Buffy's spine.  
  
Something was happening to this city and its people, something terrible, and they had no idea   
what.  
  
The knock on the door didn't surprise Buffy. She was on her feet in a heartbeat, hurrying   
toward the entrance and throwing her arms around the person standing on the other side as   
soon as the door was open. Angel just hugged her back, relishing her closeness.  
  
"You shouldn't be up," she admonished him a minute later. "You're still hurting."  
  
"I don't think we have the time to wait for me to heal all the way." He followed her inside,   
closing the door behind them. "Any more sightings of these shadows?"  
  
They had briefly spoken on the phone yesterday evening, directly after Angel had come out of   
his unconsciousness and the worst of his wounds had healed. Buffy hadn't given him the   
address of the hotel she and Dawn stayed in, though, knowing that he wouldn't need any   
directions in order to find her. Also they had not been sure whether these shadows might not   
have some way to listen in on them.  
  
"Not a peek," Buffy said, looking over at Dawn again. "And thank God for that. I don't think   
she could have taken another night like that."  
  
Angel looked at the sleeping girl, saw her shiver in the throes of some nightmare. His heart   
went out to hear, even more so because he could feel the fierce protectiveness radiating off his   
mate.  
  
He motioned for Buffy to join him in the adjoining kitchen, wanting to be safely out of   
hearing range of the girl, just in case she should wake up. Even while he had been in the   
hospital there had been some new developments. Things he didn't want Dawn to hear just   
now.  
  
"So what's new?" Buffy sat down in a chair, rubbing her tired eyes. She had barely slept at all   
these last two nights.  
  
"Nothing good." Angel sat down beside her, pulling her against him, resting her head in the   
hollow of his shoulder. "About two minutes before the police station was attacked Tara   
figured out the pattern we have been looking for since day one. The pattern of the murders."  
  
Buffy looked up at him, feeling how worried he was.  
  
"Someone is carving a pentagram into the face of the city, Buffy. A vast conjuring circle that   
stretches from the southernmost tip of Central Park down to 21st Street and across the entire   
width of the island."  
  
"My God," Buffy whispered.  
  
"It get's better," Angel said, his voice grim. "We had policemen check out the entire length of   
the circle, as well as the length of the five lines."  
  
Buffy knew, even before he said it. She could almost see it in his mind.  
  
"More bodies, Buffy," he said, his voice shaking, "many more. Most of them are underground   
so we never found them, but they are there. Hundreds of them, all crucified and eviscerated.   
Someone ... arranged them as some kind of perverse ... connect-the-dots game and built a   
pentagram out of their bodies."  
  
There was rage flooding across their bond, terrible wrath focused on whatever monster could   
have done something like this. Buffy felt her hands shaking with fury of her own. The same   
someone who had done this was now after Dawn, wanted to do to here what he had done to so   
many others.  
  
Angel visibly gathered himself before he continued.  
  
"There is some good news as well. Darla called Wesley and he spent a few sleepless nights   
browsing through the old Watchers Council database we captured back in '21. And he found   
some things."  
  
"Things?" Buffy felt a tiny ember of hope flare to life inside her.  
  
"Darla wouldn't go into details over the com. Wesley is on his way here, he'll arrive at JFK in   
about," he checked his watch, "ten minutes and has all the info with him. From what Darla   
could tell me he found some kind of prior appearance of both the runes we've seen at the   
murder sites and those shadow creatures. He also found something about these birthmarks."  
  
Buffy turned her head to look at Dawn, the sleeping girl's head just visible through the door   
to the bedroom.  
  
"Does he know why they are after her?"  
  
"I hope so. Whatever their reason, though, we have to make sure that they don't get her. I've   
talked to Bogomiel just a few minutes ago. He'll arrange transportation out of the city into a   
PID safe house in California. We'll get the details as soon as he knows them."  
  
"Good," Buffy nodded. "Let's hope these things can't track her all the way across the   
continent."  
  
Again she was feeling torn and confused. The thought of Dawn getting out of this city where   
every shadow seemed to be intent on killing her was a relief, yet at the same time the thought   
of being parted from her caused her almost physical pain. And she would have to part with   
her. She couldn't leave Angel and the others until they had found some way to stop these   
things, whatever they were, whatever they wanted.  
  
"Good," she repeated.  
  
Angel felt her confusion and didn't know what to do about it. He could only hope that his old   
friend Wesley might have found some answers to that as well. Maybe once they knew what   
the girl's birthmark meant they could figure this out.  
  
"The sun will be up soon," Angel told Buffy, massaging her tired shoulders. "We're meeting   
the others in thirty minutes. Spike and Faith are in town, too, by the way."  
  
"Spike and Faith?" The thought of her sister Slayer and her husband's best friend almost   
managed to distract her for a moment. "Are they back together then?"  
  
"I wish," Angel sighed, giving her the barest hint of a smile. "They are constantly bickering.   
I'd doubt they'd stop even in the middle of a life or death battle."  
  
Buffy snuggled deeper into Angel's side, closing her eyes for a moment to rest.  
  
"When do you think they'll figure out that they're still madly into one another?"  
  
"Soon, I hope. Otherwise they're going to drive me insane."  
  
"Buffy?" A tired voice sounded out from the bedroom, causing Buffy to be on her feet and by   
Dawn's side in an instant.  
  
"What is it, Dawn?" Buffy gently touched the girl's hand. Tiny fingers curled around her   
hand, holding tight. Dawn looked at with sleepy eyes, eyes which suddenly focused on   
something behind Buffy and widened in fear.  
  
"Stay away," she screeched, drawing the blanket up to her nose.  
  
Buffy looked behind her, only to see Angel emerge from the shadows. She quickly turned on   
the bedside lamp, once again remembering that not everyone could see in the dark like she   
and her husband could.  
  
"Don't worry, Dawn," Buffy calmed the girl. "It's not one of the shadows. This is Angel, my   
husband."  
  
Dawn still stared at him with eyes full of fear. Slowly, doing everything to appear harmless,   
Angel sat down on the bed beside her, reaching out with his large hand.  
  
"Glad to meet you, Dawn," he said softly, giving her his half-smile that was known to make   
females of all ages melt into their socks. It was only made that much more devastating by the   
fact that, even after all this time, Angel still seemed to have no clue as to its effects. Buffy   
loved that smile.  
  
Hesitantly Dawn reached out her own hand, shaking his.  
  
"You ... you're Buffy's husband?"  
  
"I am that lucky," he told her.  
  
She looked at him still, holding on to his hand a moment longer before she let go.  
  
"You're cold."  
  
"I am a vampire, Dawn."  
  
For a moment Buffy wasn't sure that telling her this was a good idea. Despite the fact that   
humans and vampires had coexisted for nearly forty years now there were still a lot of people   
that eyed the undead with a healthy dose of wariness and even fear.  
  
A moment later Buffy realized that Dawn was not one of those people.  
  
"A vampire? Really? Can I see your demon face?"  
  
Angel chuckled, then slipped into his vampiric features. There had been a time not too long   
ago when he would never have done something like this, especially not in front of a child.   
More than any other vampire Angel had been ashamed of what he was, blamed himself for   
things that he had had no control over.  
  
Buffy was very happy that those days were in the past.  
  
"Cool," Dawn said, seeing her husband's second face.  
  
"We'll have to get going, Dawn," Buffy told her. "We're meeting some friends of ours in half   
an hour and then we'll get you out of the city."  
  
Dawn's face fell, memory of why she was here and what had happened returning to her.  
  
"Okay," she said, her voice filled with sadness and fear. "Where are we going?"  
  
"A safe place, Dawn. Far away from the shadows."  
  
Five minutes later Dawn was dressed and, with Angel and Buffy each holding one of her   
hands, they walked out into the predawn twilight to meet their friends and get some answers.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 13 - Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about Golgotha, But Were Too Terrified to   
Ask  
  
  
Wesley was the last to arrive at the agreed-upon gathering place, where everyone else was   
already waiting, some rather unkind words about New York taxi drivers still on his lips.   
Seeing as the shadows had already shown their complete lack of interest in remaining   
inconspicuous, even to the point of attacking a police building, Angel and Buffy had decided   
not to involve the New York police again for the moment. Better to stay hidden for the time   
being.  
  
They were gathered in a breakfast inn several blocks away from the edge of the pentagram   
carved into the city, almost empty thanks to the holidays and the current unrest that held the   
city in its grip. Most citizens preferred to stay indoors as New York slowly went mad around   
them. They had quickly taken over the backroom of the inn and paid the waiter a hefty   
amount of money to make sure that no one disturbed them.  
  
Angel went forward to greet his old friend. 73 years of age had turned Wesley's hair all gray   
and introduced lots of wrinkles to his face. His handshake was still firm, though, just like his   
voice.  
  
"Thanks for coming, Wes," Angel led him toward the others.  
  
"Certainly no problem," the old man smiled, looking over at the others. His smile could not   
hide his troubled thoughts, though, nor was it able to lighten the dark mood of those already   
present.  
  
Buffy sat at the table they had gathered around, Dawn held close to her side as she waved at   
him. She was aware of the worried look the former Watcher gave the young girl, wondering   
what he might know about her.  
  
Faith and Spike sat as far apart as the table allowed, occasionally throwing stares at each   
other, otherwise ignoring the other's existence. Willow and Tara had positioned themselves   
between them, the two witches looking tired and somewhat bruised, nursing huge cups of   
steaming coffee.  
  
Eight hours of flight, not counting jetlag, had tired Wesley quite a bit so he was glad to finally   
sit down, accepting the tea Angel handed him. After enjoying a few sips he took several   
sheets filled with notes from his traveling bag, spreading them out on the table.  
  
"I guess we should go right to the point," he told the others, all of whom nodded.  
  
"Darla said you found something about the runes," Angel invited him to begin.  
  
"Yes, quite. I found some old references in the Watchers Council database. It appears that the   
Council encountered them in the year 896, back in the old country. Encountered, I might add,   
under the exact same circumstances as here in the present."  
  
He looked briefly at Dawn, debating the virtue of going into gory details in front of a child,   
but Buffy made no move to take the girl away from the table. Sighing, he continued.  
  
"There was a series of murders back then, seemingly identical to the ones here in New York.   
The same modus operandi, the same runes."  
  
"Which runes," Buffy interrupted. "Birthmark or non-birthmark variety?"  
  
"Non-birthmark," Wesley continued, "for reasons that will become apparent very shortly. It   
appears that the Council and the Slayer of that time got involved in these murders when it   
became apparent that dark magic was involved. Also one should note that murders didn't go   
unnoticed quite as easily back then as they sadly do now."  
  
"Lot less people around back then," Spike supplied.  
  
"Yes, that too. As I was saying, the Council and the Slayer got involved. They encountered   
creatures that they described as 'shades of death', which appear to be identical to the shadows   
Darla told me about."  
  
"Did they also record how to fight them?" Buffy absentmindedly stroked Dawn's shoulder.   
"None of us really had the chance to try and destroy them back at the station. Except Willow   
that is."  
  
The redheaded witch looked up. "They don't seem to be too fond of fire. Or light."  
  
Wesley nodded. "That is what the records indicate as well. Fire was used as the primary   
weapon against these creatures. They never appeared during the day, it seemed, except in   
deepest shadow."  
  
"What about that other creature," Angel asked. "This black knight."  
  
Wesley searched through his notes for a moment, then produced a drawing which he showed   
to Angel.  
  
"Is that him?"  
  
The drawing showed a huge figure in black armor, one steel fist holding an intricately carved   
sword. Nothing could be seen of its face except the eyes, to whom the artist had given an eerie   
glow.  
  
"That's him," Buffy and Angel said at the same time.  
  
"This," Wesley pointed at the drawing, "is the entity called the Harbinger."  
  
"Harbinger of what?" Tara looked up from her coffee. "I tried to get a sense of these creatures   
when they attacked us, but I found nothing but darkness and cold. What are they?"  
  
Wesley shuffled around his notes, gathering his thoughts.  
  
"The Watchers were never quite sure, it seems. Apparently the entity itself was the only   
source of information they had. At several times this Harbinger referred to someone or   
something called 'Golgotha', which would soon walk the Earth and bring fire and destruction   
to us all.  
  
"The record-keeping Watcher, a gentleman called Frederic DuLac, theorized that this   
Golgotha might be some kind of powerful demon that the Harbinger tried to summon through   
the pentagram he was building. I fear they recorded no more information on that. There is   
some more about a lot of people having nightmares at that time, widespread unrest breaking   
out, but nothing concrete. They stopped the Harbinger from accomplishing his task before it   
could fulfill it."  
  
"Stopped it how?" Buffy inquired.  
  
"The records are rather lacking on that topic as well, I fear," Wesley admitted. "They only   
recorded that it cost a lot of people their lives. The Slayer was aided by a large number of   
knights, an army if you will, and many of them died in the battle. There are some references   
that the sword of the Harbinger was captured, thereby preventing him from continuing to   
fight."  
  
"That would make sense," Angel added. "When I fought this thing I first took it down. Then   
the sword jumped into the hands of Captain Trenor and seconds later Trenor was clad in that   
black armor and attacked me."  
  
"It might be that the Harbinger is actually the sword, not the man," Wesley nodded. "Some   
kind of magical artifact that possesses those it touches."  
  
He thought on that for a moment, then shook his head and went back to his notes.  
  
"Anyway, after the battle was over the Council tried to have the 'tools' of the enemy   
destroyed. Those tools being the Harbinger's sword and something else which they called 'the   
Ring of Fire'. There is no further description what the latter is, only that all efforts to destroy   
both it and the sword failed."  
  
"Obviously," Spike rolled his eyes. "Armor-boy wouldn't be swinging anymore if his pig   
sticker was shrapnel, would he?"  
  
"What did they do with these tools?" Willow leaned forward, eager to hear more.  
  
"They buried them," Wesley read from his notes, "in 'a land where neither man nor demon   
will ever look for it'."  
  
"The new world?" Faith proposed sarcastically.  
  
"In all probability. They did more than bury them, though. It seems they did not have full   
confidence in no one ever finding these tools, therefore they bound them."  
  
He put another drawing on the table, everyone leaning forward to study it. It showed a circle   
of twelve cloaked people, their hands outstretched, obviously engaged in some kind of ritual.   
Buffy and Dawn both gasped when they saw the symbol drawn in the middle of their circle.  
  
"That's my birthmark," Dawn pointed. "How come ...?"  
  
"I was getting to that," Wesley assured her. "As I was saying the tools were bound. Twelve of   
the world's most powerful white sorcerers cast a containment spell, which was to make sure   
that no one would ever be able to find and use these tools again."  
  
"So what happened," Faith asked. "Spells ain't what they used to be?"  
  
"Even the most powerful of magical spells is subject to the forces of entropy. It has been more   
than a thousand years since this spell was cast, Faith, and even magic such as this weakens as   
time goes by. From all I have heard I would assume that a part of the containment spell failed,   
maybe due to a tectonical shift or something similar, leading to some unfortunate man   
discovering the site where the sword and this mysterious ring were buried."  
  
"He touched the sword and the Harbinger took him over," Angel continued the thought.  
  
"That is one possible scenario, yes."  
  
"It doesn't explain why Dawn carries this mark, though," Buffy interjected. "If this symbol is   
in some way connected to the sorcerers who bound these monsters in times past, then why   
does Dawn have it? Why these other people? Why are they killing everyone who wears it?"  
  
Buffy felt Dawn shiver in her arms and drew the girl in tighter. Wesley shared a long look   
with Angel, clearly stating that he would prefer not to say this in front of the girl. Angel   
looked over at Buffy.  
  
"Buffy, maybe you should take Dawn and ..."  
  
"No!" Dawn jumped up from where she sat. "These ... these things killed my parents. They   
are trying to kill me, too. I have a right to know what they want from me."  
  
Buffy rose to touch her again, slowly drawing her back onto the chair, then looking up at   
Wesley.  
  
"She is right. Trying to hide the truth from here at this point will only make things even more   
difficult then they already are. Whatever it is, I doubt it can be more terrible than what she has   
already gone through. So tell us!"  
  
For a minute or two Wesley felt every bit his age, the years and the many terrible things he   
had seen pressing down on him with a near unbearable weight. He looked into the large eyes   
of the frightened girl sitting across the table and sighed deeply.  
  
"The sorcerers knew," he finally continued, taking another sheet of notes from the pile in   
front of him, "that their spell would fail sooner or later. That was something they did not want   
to risk. In order to prevent that they used this symbol here, the same symbol Dawn carries on   
her neck, to preserve their magic across time."  
  
"Meaning," Faith prodded him.  
  
"In layman's terms, they bound the spell to their bloodlines. Every offspring of the twelve   
sorcerers who cast the containment spell would carry this mark and, through their very   
existence, maintain the integrity of the magic that binds the sword and the ring."  
  
Angel nodded, paling as he understood. "So the Harbinger got free when part of the spell   
failed, but in order to break it completely ..."  
  
Everyone looked at Dawn.  
  
"If we are to believe these shadow creatures," Wesley said slowly, his voice grave, "then   
Dawn is the last living descendant of the twelve sorcerers. As long as she lives the spell will   
hold."  
  
For a long moment no one said a word, most of them turning their eyes away from the young   
girl that looked at the aging ex-Watcher with fear in her eyes.  
  
"You ... you mean ...," Dawn stuttered.  
  
Wesley couldn't meet her eyes.  
  
"It won't happen!" Buffy tugged Dawn close to her, protectiveness radiating off her. "I won't   
allow anyone to harm you, Dawn, I promise you that."  
  
"We will get her out of the city at once," Angel resolved. "We're not waiting for Bogomiel.   
These creatures never come out during the day you said, right?" He looked at Wesley.  
  
"Not according to the Council's records, no."  
  
"We have about eight hours of daylight left," Angel told everyone. "Buffy, Faith, the two of   
you get Dawn safely out of town, as far away from New York as you can."  
  
"No prob," Faith smiled at Dawn. "No shadow demon will get his hands on you with the   
Chosen Two to guard you, shorty."  
  
"Chosen Two?" Dawn looked at her, confused.  
  
"Long story, I'll tell it to you on the way out of Dodge."  
  
"The rest of us will try to find the place where the sword and the ring were buried," Angel   
continued. "Willow, Tara, maybe you can find a way to restore this containment spell. If not   
we'll find another way to make sure that whatever is still down there stays down there. Any   
questions?"  
  
Angel looked around the table, everyone shaking their heads.  
  
"Good, let's get going!"  
  
As Angel went forward to pay their bill Wesley walked up to him, leaning in close.  
  
"Angel, there is something else. I did not want to mention it at the table, but I think you   
should know."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"The Council apparently foresaw the possibility that someday someone would try to hunt   
down the descendants of the wizards and try to kill them in order for the Harbinger to be   
freed. So in order to prevent that from happening ..."  
  
His voice trailed off as he threw a pointed look over to where Buffy was fidgeting with Dawn,   
pulling on her jacket.  
  
"You mean ..." Angel began.  
  
"I mean, Angel, that the Slayer will do everything to protect Dawn. She can't help it because   
it is part of her heritage, magically imprinted into the very essence of what she is. Faith will   
feel it as well before too long."  
  
Angel looked at him.  
  
"So you're saying that, should it come to a fight, we can't count on either of them to watch   
our backs, not when Dawn should also be in danger."  
  
"That too, but I am actually more concerned over what it might do to the two of them should   
the worst come to pass."  
  
Angel watched Buffy as she cared for Dawn, felt his mate's emotions across their bond. Was   
all of that just because of some magic cast over a thousand years ago? He doubted it   
somehow, but it didn't make much of a difference.  
  
They had to protect Dawn. No matter the cost.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 14 - New York Bridges Tumbling Down  
  
  
Buffy, Faith, and Dawn took Faith's sports car, her pride and joy, which would get them away   
from the city much faster than anything else would at the moment. By the time they had left   
the breakfast inn they had heard that, due to the ongoing rise in crime and violence New York   
would be put under martial law come nightfall and both airports had closed down. National   
guard units had already moved into position, preparing to put a lockdown on the city  
  
A seven o'clock curfew would also go into effect, which left them about seven hours to get   
Dawn beyond the city limit. Unfortunately quite a few other people also wanted to leave the   
sinking ship.  
  
"Move your fucking junk heap out of the way," Faith yelled at the car in front of her, hitting   
the horn repeatedly.  
  
If the situation had not been so desperate the dark-haired Slayer might have been amused. She   
had seen a lot of changes during her lifetime, had seen the world change almost beyond   
recognition, but some things remained the same, no matter what. It did not matter whether a   
car ran via combustion engine or fusion cells, drove on wheels or floated, some people still   
should not be allowed to drive.  
  
"Move it," she yelled again with no more effect than before. A long line of cars stood in front   
of her, all the way across the arc of the bridge, shimmering in the sunlight, and did not move   
an inch.  
  
The rearview mirror showed her Buffy and Dawn, both of them sitting in the back, the blonde   
Slayer barely taking her eyes off the girl. This might have creeped Faith out, if not for the fact   
that she found herself drawn to the girl as well. There was something about Dawn that just   
screamed at her to protect the little bit, no matter what.  
  
Faith had never seen herself as the maternal type before, which added some creepiness to the   
situation after all.  
  
A few cars behind them she saw the black Mercedes with the polarized windows that served   
as Angel and Buffy's transportation during their time in New York, allowing the vampire to   
move around in daylight. Vampire-style cars were still a niche market, but you could rent   
them in just about every large town. Angel would follow them until the city-limit, making   
sure they got out okay.  
  
Which probably meant that he would be stuck here on Brooklyn Bridge, right in the middle of   
a traffic jam, along with them for the next couple of hours.  
  
"Anyone got playing cards?" She turned to face Dawn and Buffy. "Looks like we'll be here   
for a while, girlfriends."  
  
"Great," Buffy mumbled. "Right out in the open."  
  
"It's daylight, B!" Faith made a grand motion to encompass the blue winter sky above them.   
Somewhere beyond the ceiling of the car, that was. It was the main reason why they had not   
taken one of the tunnels over to Jersey, deciding to drive over to Long Island instead. "Wes   
said they never come out during the day and we still got plenty of time left to get out of here."  
  
Buffy nodded, but did not seem convinced.  
  
#  
  
There was darkness all around him, the cool shadows soothing where they touched him. The   
Harbinger closed his stolen eyes for a moment, relishing the proximity of his master's power.   
Soon it would be done. Soon his master would walk the Earth.  
  
Finally his work on this world would be finished and he could go on.  
  
The ring was in front of him, its presence lighting the darkness of their underground prison   
with beautiful fire. Reaching out his armored hand the Harbinger stroked across the ragged   
surface of the barrier, the magical spell that had imprisoned him here in this tomb for so long,   
that still imprisoned the ring, kept it beyond his reach.  
  
"Not much longer," he whispered.  
  
It was time for the next step. The darkness around him swirled with his servants, the wraiths   
gathering to his bidding. So far they had done good work, had found and eliminated all those   
whose lives sustained the barrier. All except one.  
  
"The girl," the wraiths whispered all around him.  
  
They had failed to capture the girl. She had escaped from the death trap the police station   
should have been, had been spirited away by someone who interfered in their matters.   
Someone the Harbinger thought familiar for some reason. Something about that blonde girl ...  
  
It did not matter. Whoever she was, whoever else might be helping her, it would not make a   
difference much longer.  
  
The Harbinger thrust his sword into the ground, felt the power ripple around him. His master   
had made him strong, a strength that even a thousand and more years of imprisonment had not   
diminished. Only the smallest part of it was still closed to him, remained out of reach behind   
the accursed barrier, but not much longer.  
  
A soft glow surrounded him as the wraiths drew closer.  
  
"Our master's shadow has touched the world," he intoned, the wraiths whispering the words   
along with him as flames sprung from his sword.  
  
"In darkness and fire we will walk tall!"  
  
Behind him the ring glowed with a dark radiance all its own, waiting for the moment the   
barrier would fall.  
  
"Let his enemies tremble as night falls."  
  
Soon now. Very soon.  
  
#  
  
Faith and Buffy felt it at the same time. Something had changed in the atmosphere around   
them, something that made the hairs on the back of their necks stand up straight. Two pairs of   
eyes darted around, searching for the source of the danger. There were only the other cars,   
though, stuck here on the bridge just like them, drivers honking and cursing, no shadows in   
sight.  
  
"Something is wrong," Buffy spoke out loud.  
  
Faith still searched for any possible threat when she noticed something strange. There was a   
shadow on the passenger's side of the door, a shadow cast by her arms as she rested them on   
the steering wheel. Only the shadow began to fade, its outline growing fuzzy.  
  
Where did the sunlight go?  
  
"We have a problem, B!" Faith looked out the window, searching for the place where she   
knew the sun had to be. Only it was not there anymore.  
  
"My God!" She was not sure who had said that, but it summed up her own feelings quite well.  
  
A dark cloud was spreading over the sky where the sun should have been, a midnight black   
spot of darkness growing larger with every passing second. A cancerous growth that was   
blotting out the heavens.  
  
"What is that," Dawn yelled, clinging closer to Buffy. All around them people were looking   
out of their cars, staring at the skies with fear evident on their faces. The light was failing all   
around them, shadows growing longer as the darkness spread over them like a dome.  
  
A dome that was coming down on them faster and faster.  
  
"Turn the car around!" Buffy's yell broke Faith out of her stasis. The darkness in the sky was   
moving, she realized, moving directly toward them.  
  
Faith hit the pedal for all it was worth and threw the car into a sharp turn, skidding over onto   
the nearly empty lanes that led back into the city. Directly ahead of them was Angel's car, the   
vampire having realized as well what was going to happen any moment now. Some other cars   
tried to turn as well, but people had begun to panic now.  
  
Cars crashed into one another, people screamed, the bridge shook with the thunder of running   
feet, screeching cars.  
  
The darkness slammed down right in the middle of the bridge, a solid wall of black that   
immediately cut the steel and mortar in half. The entire structure screamed as it was sliced   
apart, drowning out the people's screams. Steel cables snapped and cut through the air like   
whips, crushing helpless people where they stood, flinging cars right off the bridge.  
  
"Faster," Buffy yelled as the road began to crack beneath them.  
  
"I am going as fast as I can," Faith gritted through clenched teeth, slamming the pedal right   
through the car's floor.  
  
Dawn clung to Buffy, pressing her face into the Slayer's shoulder as the world around them   
was reduced to screams and thunder, the car shaking and roaring like a wounded animal.   
Behind them the bridge broke away into the river, hundreds of cars and people tumbling down   
helplessly. Faith had drawn up beside Angel's car and they, as well as several other cars who   
had turned around in time, managed to stay ahead of the crumbling structure by a hair's   
breath.  
  
"We won't make it," Dawn screeched as the car lurched and seemed to float freely for a   
moment, only to hit solid ground a moment later. Faith stepped on the brakes with all her   
strength, bringing them to a screeching halt right beside Angel's car.  
  
Angel climbed out and ran over to them, the sunlight completely gone.  
  
"Are you all right?" He looked inside, checking on all of them.  
  
"Just peachy!"  
  
Faith climbed out as well, having to force her fingers to release their death grip on the steering   
wheel. They had made it off the bridge and back onto the island. As had Angel. As had about   
five or six other cars.  
  
The bridge and all the other cars that had been on it were gone.  
  
"I guess leaving New York is out for the moment, isn't it?" Faith looked out across the river.  
  
A wall of solid blackness stood where she should have been able to see Long Island. The dark   
waters of the river washed against it, the remains of the bridge sinking beneath the waves   
even as they watched. The black wall seemed to stretch the entire length of the river,   
vanishing from sight as it curved around behind the sky scrapers.  
  
The dark skyscrapers. Not a single light was burning in them.  
  
"Why haven't they turned on the light yet?" Dawn looked around, shivering in the cold that   
had descended on them. Faith could clearly see her breath as she exhaled.  
  
Angel took out his com and worked the buttons for a moment, then sighed and put it away   
again.  
  
"I don't think they can."  
  
The black wall stretched high above them, forming a dome that shut off the entire island from   
the outside world, blocking out the sun. Not a single light burned anywhere in Manhattan and   
when Faith tried to restart her car the engine did not make so much as a sound.  
  
"We're in trouble," she muttered.  
  
"You don't know the half of it!" Buffy's comment caused Faith to look up. The darkness that   
had descended over the island was near absolute, only a very dim gloom that seemed to   
suffuse the air all around allowed them to see anything at all. At least those of them with near-  
perfect night vision. Every normal human would probably be completely blind.  
  
Which meant that they would not be able to see the literal army of moving shadows that was   
advancing on them right at this moment.  
  
"Trouble," Faith repeated numbly. 


	2. Parts 15 through 28

Part 15 - The Last Glimpse of Dawn  
  
  
"This does not look good," Angel muttered under his breath, looking at the mass of shadows   
approaching them. The wraith-like creatures barely stood out amidst the near-total darkness that had   
descended over New York. Even Angel's superior eyesight could only keep track of them when they   
moved. The moment they stood still they faded into the background, concealed amidst the regular   
shadows.  
  
"Dawn, get behind me," he heard Buffy whisper to the girl, who probably had no clue what was going   
on here. Angel doubted any normal human would be able to see anything in this darkness.  
  
Angel carefully reached into his coat. While he had hoped for Buffy, Faith, and Dawn to get out of New   
York before they would have to face these creatures again he had not survived more than three centuries   
by being careless. The apparent city-wide failure of technology was but a minor drawback. After the   
events in the police building Angel had made sure that it would not hinder him much.  
  
"Close your eyes," Angel yelled, throwing something at the advancing shadows. A second later the   
world around them exploded into light, the phosphorus explosion burning away all the real shadows,   
leaving the demonic ones standing out with stark clearness.  
  
The light lasted only a few seconds, but that enough time for Angel to start shooting, Buffy and Faith   
only half a second behind him.  
  
Enchanted bullets struck the shadow creatures and ignited into flame, terrible shrieks shattering the   
silence around them as their attackers were transformed into living torches. The flames from the burning   
wraiths provided some light to the scenery, enabling Angel to pick out more of the attackers as they   
moved toward them, flooding forth from the darkness like a tidal wave. People screamed and started   
running as the carnage ensued, leaving their useless cars behind and running off into the darkness.  
  
"Get Dawn out of here," Angel yelled at the two Slayers.  
  
"The damn car won't start, remember?" Faith was standing close to her priced vehicle, Dawn huddling   
against the useless hunk of metal. Buffy was on the other side, pumping bullets into advancing demons   
with a calm precision that belied the feelings Angel received from her over the link.  
  
"Ever heard of going on foot?"  
  
More and more of the shadow creatures burst forth, heedless of their losses as Faith, Buffy, and Angel   
spread fire among their ranks. There were more of them than Angel had bullets. Far more. Most of the   
bystanders had gone into blind panic the moment Angel's phosphor grenade had ignited, trying to run as   
the world around them became a maze of shadows and flame.  
  
"Dive into the crowds!"  
  
Faith plugged Dawn from the ground, Buffy by her side, and the two Slayers made a run along the edge   
of the river, following the path most of the panicked bystanders had taken. Angel, slamming his next-to-  
last pair of cartridges into his guns, was two steps behind them. The shadows surged to follow.  
  
Without breaking stride Buffy took a number of torches from her rucksack, lighting them on the run. She   
threw the first torch to Angel, who had holstered one of his guns to conserve bullets, lighting two more   
for herself.  
  
The first shadow to catch up with them fell victim to Buffy's torch, the Slayer slamming the burning   
wood right into the center of the creature and sending it screaming into the darkness. More of their   
attackers caught up quickly even as they reached the edge of the fleeing crowd.  
  
Faith was clutching Dawn close to her chest, ducking as she tried to disappear among the running   
people. Buffy and Angel spread out a bit, not wanting their presence to give Faith's position away, yet   
not daring to abandon her either. Angel hated endangering innocents this way but they had no other   
choice. Dawn had to live or God alone knew what would be unleashed upon this city and the world.  
  
"Over here, bed sheets!" Buffy waved at the shadows, trying to draw them towards her and away from   
Dawn and Faith. "Come and get it."  
  
The creatures were now hovering over the crowd, circling as they seemed to have lost sight of Dawn for   
the moment. Angel carefully picked them off with his gun, sending one after the other burning into the   
dark, but there still seemed no end to them. How many of these things were there?  
  
Faith kept her head low, glancing up only occasionally to see the mass of dark wraiths hovering above   
them, some bursting into flames as Angel or Buffy took them down, but quickly replaced by new ones.   
They seemed confused, leading Faith to hope she had in fact managed to lose them. Running in the   
middle of a crowd of panicked people was not exactly her idea of fun, but it beat those bastards getting   
their filthy hands on Dawn.  
  
The girl was shivering in her arms, quietly sobbing as Faith tried to shield her from this nightmare.  
  
"Don't worry, shorty," the dark-haired Slayer whispered to her. "We'll be out of here in a flash, never   
fear."  
  
Without warning the crowd parted in front of her, parted around a huge black shape like water around a   
rock. Faith skidded to a halt, as did most other people around her, looking at the giant in black armor   
that was standing a mere ten feet or so in front of her, his right hand holding a sword.  
  
"Must be the Harbinger," Faith muttered, trying to move behind a few other gawking people before he   
noticed her.  
  
"Give me the girl," the Harbinger growled, his gleaming red eyes seemingly focused directly on her.   
Had he seen her yet or was he just guessing, trying to draw her out?  
  
Angel exploded from the paralyzed crowd to her left, immediately firing on the armored creature. The   
bullets struck the black steel and burst into flames, but seemed unable to do any harm. The Harbinger   
looked at the small dents in his chest plate, then back up at Angel.  
  
"Why do you persist in trying to stop me," the black giant chuckled. "Nothing can hurt me."  
  
"Care to wager on that?" Buffy appeared behind him and shoved the burning torch right into one of the   
armor's shoulder joints, having spotted the small opening there. Flames exploded from the Harbinger's   
eye slits as he convulsed, the sword dropping from his hand.  
  
Moments later a human body fell to the ground, burning.  
  
"Where did the sword go?" Angel looked around for the gleaming blade, but it had vanished in the   
darkness.  
  
Some instinct made Faith turn around, certain that something had appeared behind her, only to see a   
huge black fist coming toward her face. Dawn screamed.  
  
Then everything went dark.  
  
#  
  
Dawn's scream caused Buffy's head to snap around, just in time to see Faith crumble to the ground in   
front of the Harbinger's huge black figure, Dawn tumbling from her arms and trying to run away. An   
armored fists reached out and caught her by the hair, drawing her in.  
  
"Get your hands off her," Buffy screamed, running toward him.  
  
"The girl is mine," the Harbinger growled even as Buffy barreled into him, taking them both off their   
feet. Dawn managed to struggle free, losing a few strands of hair in the process, but she had barely   
managed two steps when the shadow creatures descended on her.  
  
"Down!" Angel appeared above her, fending off the wraiths with bullets and fire, his demon eyes   
blazing. Buffy was back on her feet, raining blows on the prone figure of the Harbinger that left huge   
dents in his armor.  
  
"You won't take her," she repeated over and over as she pounded him into scrap metal.  
  
"Won't I?" The creature seemed to smile at her. A moment later Buffy was standing over a dead human   
body, the black armor gone without a trace.  
  
"He's gone again," Buffy yelled over to Angel, who was busy protecting Dawn from the wraiths and   
running low on bullets.  
  
"We have to get out of here," he yelled back. "We can't keep this up forever."  
  
"How accurate."  
  
The Harbinger appeared behind Angel, black armor wrapping itself around the body of a shocked   
bystander, the woman's surprised and scared face the last thing to be swallowed up by black steel. Angel   
turned around, trying to keep an eye on everything at once, but was a moment too slow.  
  
"Angel," Dawn screamed as the Harbinger ran him through with his sword, the tip exploding out of   
Angel's back in a shower of blood. The vampire convulsed, more blood gushing from his mouth, before   
the creature tore out his sword and let him crumble to the pavement.  
  
Buffy fell to her knees as the pain hit her, flooding across her link to Angel. When the building had   
collapsed on top of him he had had time to shield her, to close down their bond as far as it was possible   
and keep her from feeling the pain of crushed legs and broken bones. This time everything happened   
much too fast and Angel's scream of pain resonated inside her head, tearing her thoughts to shreds.  
  
She tried to get back to her feet, tried to find the strength to fight, but could only watch in horror as the   
Harbinger's steel fist grabbed Dawn and threw her over his shoulder, walking off into the darkness as   
the girl screamed her lungs out, begging Buffy to help her.  
  
A moment later they were gone.  
  
"Dawn," Buffy screamed as she crumbled to the pavement, pressing her face into the cold concrete. This   
could not be happening. She had promised Dawn that she would keep her safe, that nothing would   
happen to her. This had to be a nightmare. It could not be real.  
  
This was not happening. None of it.  
  
Angel managed to prop himself up on his elbows, shoving the pain away. Pain and him were old friends,   
he knew how to handle it. Shove it away into the darkness, feed it to the demon dwelling there, the   
monster could take it. Keep the pain away from the bond, spare Buffy the agony.  
  
Only then did he notice that Buffy was in an agony all her own.  
  
"Buffy," he whispered, crawling over to her. They were alone one some kind of street corner, both the   
shadows and the onlookers gone now, only the flames of burning wraiths shedding any light at all. His   
wife was cowering on the pavement, only a few steps away from an unconscious Faith, and crying into   
her fists.  
  
"Keep it together, please!" He managed to reach her, his hand touching her shoulder. She tensed under   
his touch, but physical contact strengthened the bond. He reached into her mind, appalled at the self-  
loathing and guilt he found there. Whatever the Watchers had done to bind the Slayer to Dawn's   
bloodline, it had caused one hell of a mess inside his wife's mind.  
  
"Buffy," he yelled at her, causing her face to turn toward him. Tears were streaking from her eyes.  
  
"Dawn still lives," he told her, grabbing her with all the strength he could muster. "He has to set up that   
ritual to kill her. She needs you strong, Buffy. She needs you to rescue her. Do you hear me?"  
  
Buffy looked at him, her face filled with confusion and fear.  
  
"You think she still lives?" Her voice trembled, barely more than a whisper against his cheek.  
  
"We will find her," Angel assured her.  
  
He just did not know whether they would be able to do so in time.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 16 - Darkness Ascending, Heroes Descending  
  
  
Spike, Willow, and Tara were trying their best to reconstruct the pentagram Tara had drawn a few   
minutes before the collapse of the police station when darkness came to New York. The blinds were   
drawn in the hotel room they used as their base, so the first thing they noticed was the sudden failure of   
both the lights and Willow's palm computer.  
  
Tara gasped as the malevolent presence she had felt ever since coming to this city suddenly intensified a   
hundredfold, pressing in on her from all sides. Spike jumped to his feet and carefully glanced past the   
blinds, expecting to encounter daylight. Only there was none.  
  
"I think we have a problem, witchy girls."  
  
"Tara?" Willow sat by her panting lover, whose eyes seemed focus on something far away. Cold sweat   
was running down her forehead.  
  
"They are cutting us off," the witch muttered, wringing her hands. "Cuttting us off from the light, from   
the warmth."  
  
Spike drew his com from his coat, but it was every bit as dead as the lights and the computer.  
  
"You think the Slayers got the little bit out in time?" He looked at the two witches.  
  
For a moment they all just looked at each other worriedly, then both Willow and Tara sprung up,   
grabbing their coats and swords, and hurried for the door.  
  
"Yeah," Spike muttered, grabbing his own coat and following them. "That's what I thought, too."  
  
#  
  
New York quickly descended into chaos. For anyone without preternatural night vision the darkness was   
completely impenetrable and no electric lights or any other kind of technology worked. Inevitably some   
people panicked. Other people though of non-technological means to create light, namely fire. More   
than once the panicked people and the ones playing with fire were one and the same.  
  
By the time Spike, Willow, and Tara, the vampire leading the nearly blind witches by the hands, found   
their friends several buildings were aflame and hundreds of smaller fires had flared all across the city.   
Spike doubted that he would have been able to find his Sire in this chaos if they had not known which   
road the Slayers wanted to take out of town. New York was a madhouse and the flames turned the   
darkness into a blood-tinged twilight, the air filled with screams and the sounds of violence.  
  
Spike was profoundly thankful that Wesley was not with them. Thinking of the old man stumbling   
around amidst this insanity was enough to turn even his bleached hair gray.   
  
Buffy, Angel, and Faith were in the middle of a large crossing, the remains what looked like a few dozen   
burning black sheets surrounding them. Spike could smell blood, lots of it, and saw the healing wound in   
his Sire's stomach. And then there was the bleeding cut on Faith's forehead.  
  
Before he even knew what happened he was by Faith's side, taking a worried look at her wound.  
  
"Are you all right, pet?" A second later he frowned, realizing how he was acting all of a sudden.  
  
"Just a scratch," Faith muttered, still a bit stunned and seemingly oblivious to his behavior. "That big   
armor freak took Dawn, though."  
  
"They have Dawn?" Willow and Tara came up beside them, their faces pale in the dim light of the   
flames. "Is she ..."  
  
"She was still alive when the Harbinger carried her off," Angel said, his arm slung around the shoulders   
of a very shocked-looking Buffy. "They will need to prepare that ritual before they can kill her. Which   
means we yet have a chance to rescue her."  
  
Buffy just nodded, her body like a coiled spring ready to snap at a moment's notice, but having nowhere   
to direct all that pent-up energy.  
  
"Willow, Tara," Angel addressed the two witches. "Did you manage to reconstruct that pentagram?"  
  
"Mostly," Willow looked down, "but then all the technology failed and we lost the computer. No   
hardcopies either, I'm afraid."  
  
"Do you remember where its center is? That would be the most likely place for the final part of the   
summoning to take place, wouldn't it?"  
  
"I guess. The center was on 42nd street as I recall, somewhere close to the Avenue of the Americas. We   
weren't able to pin down the exact position, sorry."  
  
Tara glanced around all the time, her arms wrapped around her body. The cold was pressing in on her   
from all sides and she wondered whether she would ever feel warm again.  
  
"I ... I think if we can get to the general vicinity of whoever is casting this darkness spell I can home in   
on them."  
  
"Good, then let's ...," Angel began.  
  
"They won't be taking Dawn there," Buffy looked at them all with wild eyes, appearing more like a   
panicked animal than anything else. Both Spike and the witches saw that Faith, having shaken off the   
effects of being knocked unconscious, was not in much better condition. "They will put her into that   
pentagram somewhere. It could be anywhere in New York."  
  
Angel realized she was right. He had only seen the pentagram Tara had drawn on the map for a minute   
or two, but none of the crossed-out points that signified a victim with the birthmark had been anywhere   
near the center of the conjuring circle.  
  
"The crossed dots," Spike suddenly snapped his fingers. "That's where they're taking her."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I got a look at that pentagram when Red and Blondie reconstructed it, peaches. Those crossed dots, the   
ones with the birthmark, were always either at the points of the pentagram or where two of the lines   
crossed."  
  
"That still leaves us with ten possible locations, Spike," Angel reminded him. "We don't have the time   
to ..."  
  
"No," Tara interjected, managing to visualize the pentagram in her mind. "He is right, the intersections   
of the pentagram were always falling together with the crossed spots. Except for one place."  
  
One spot that was still missing a victim? The thought came to all of them at once.  
  
"Where is that spot," Buffy was all over Tara, grabbing the blonde witch by the shoulders. Tara almost   
flinched back from the look on her friend's face. "Tell me, Tara!"  
  
"Some ... somewhere near Central Park. It's the northernmost tip of the pentagram. 59th Street, I think."  
  
"What are we waiting for then?" Buffy was on the verge of starting to run.  
  
"Fuck," Faith cursed, holding her back for a moment. "That's more than halfway the length of the island   
from here. How are we supposed to get there in time without a car?"  
  
"Can't you teleport us there or something?" Buffy looked pleadingly at Willow.  
  
"With that much black magic in the air we'd probably arrive in pieces," the redhead told her friend. "But   
I think I have another idea."  
  
Angel followed her gaze and saw that they were only a block away from one of New York's many zoos,   
quite a large one, too. And where there was a zoo ...  
  
"Will," he addressed his childe, "when was the last time you rode a horse?"  
  
#  
  
Ten minutes later they had acquired four horses from the stables of the zoo, driving the nearly panicked   
animals up the Broadway at their top speed. Angel and Spike each rode a horse, Tara sitting behind   
Angel and clutching his waist. The other two horses carried Buffy and Faith, the latter had Willow   
behind her.  
  
"Willow, Buffy, Faith," Angel yelled at them. "You find and rescue Dawn." As if he could have stopped   
them, he mused. "Tara, Spike, and me will pay a visit to the center of this pentagram and try to lift this   
darkness."  
  
Willow nodded, the two Slayers barely giving a sign that they had so much as heard him. Both of them   
were completely focused on rescuing Dawn and Angel doubted they had really needed any directions to   
find her. They drove the poor horses without mercy, their gazes like searing fire in the gloom   
surrounding them.  
  
Angel was not sure that it was wise to let them go without either Spike or himself along as backup, but   
they had limited manpower to work with here. Faith and Buffy would do whatever it took to rescue   
Dawn, that much he was certain of, and Willow could hopefully keep them from doing anything stupid   
in the process. The witches were not happy at being split up, he could see that, but he wanted at least one   
person fluent in magic along on both teams.  
  
Unfortunately this left him with few alternatives. He could only pray that it was enough.  
  
They parted ways when they reached the Avenue of the Americas, Buffy, Faith, and Willow pressing on   
along Broadway towards Central Park, the others veering off toward the center of the pentagram. Tara,   
holding onto Angel's waist for dear life, was trying to home in on the source of the darkness.  
  
Close, yet still far away. Where was it? So close and yet ... downwards.  
  
"Stop!" Angel immediately brought the horse to a halt, the animal rearing back as he pulled back the   
reins. Tara climbed off the horse and wandered around for a moment, Angel and Spike keeping a   
lookout for any sign of danger.  
  
Looking up Tara studied the building they stood in front of. Bryant Tower, the newest and tallest   
addition to New York's skyline. Didn't Magitech have an office in there? She was not quite sure, but the   
building was known even to non-New Yorkers.  
  
"Is it in there?" Angel had walked up to her, gun in hand, painfully aware of how little he had left in the   
way of bullets.  
  
"Not in there," Tara muttered, dropping her gaze. "Under there."  
  
It took them five minutes to get inside, partly due to the fact that some scared people had barricaded   
themselves in the lobby. Another ten minutes passed until Tara found something that Angel was sure   
was not part of the building's specs.  
  
A broad stairway, lit by a seemingly endless number of torches, leading down into the gloom.  
  
"You get the feeling we're in the right place, mate?" Spike looked at Angel, his own guns at the ready.  
  
"I get the feeling we have a lot of stairs ahead of us."  
  
As fast as they dared the three people began their descent.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 17 - Twilight's Last Gleaming  
  
  
Wesley had returned to his hotel room just in time to watch the gathering darkness from his balcony,   
watch as the light of sun was locked away from the city, to be replaced only by the crimson glare of fire.   
For long minutes the former Watcher could do nothing but watch in rapt fascination as civilization gave   
way to fear and violence, turning New York into a madhouse.  
  
Everything inside him was screaming to go find his friends, who would no doubt be giving their best to   
fight this evil, would spare no effort to save all the people who now found themselves locked in   
shadows. His mind knew, though, that he would only hinder them. He had fought the good fight for a   
long, long time, but he was only human.  
  
Sighing he walked back into his room, lit by a single candle he had managed to find in the maid's closet   
just down the corridor. No, the only thing he could do to aid his friends now was to try and find out more   
about the thing they would be facing. He had no idea how to get any information he might find to them,   
seeing as he did not know where they were or even whether they were still ... he chased those thoughts   
away.  
  
As more fires sprang up outside Wesley buried himself in the Watchers Council database, skimming   
through lore and knowledge accumulated over the course of a millennium and more. He was not feeling   
very hopeful, seeing as it had taken him days to find even what little information he had been able to   
give Angel and the others earlier. Had that really been but a few hours ago?  
  
When he eventually did find another document pertaining to present circumstances he was surprised.   
Though, after reading through it, not pleasantly so.  
  
"Here follows the account of Briar Matthews, High Prophet of the Council, and the revelation regarding   
the threat of Golgotha:  
  
"It comes out of fire and shadow, striding across worlds like a titan, leaving pain and destruction in its   
wake. I name thee Devastator, devourer of worlds. As its shadow falls over our people the darkness shall   
consume all that is pure and decent, reducing man to animal, spreading violence and hatred like plague.  
  
"A thousand worlds it has consumed, but they could not silence its hunger and craving. Its shadow now   
falls on our world and the sons of man shall tremble before it."  
  
Wesley read on, learning that Briar Matthews had died mere minutes after he had uttered these words.   
By that time the Slayer had already gone out to fight the Harbinger and the Council then mobilized all   
the knights and warriors loyal to their cause to aid her. Together they defeated it, preventing the coming   
of Golgotha, at least for that day.  
  
Today, though, there was no army of knights in sight, only a city full of frightened people and his   
friends. With another sigh Wesley realized that he had no way of getting this new information to said   
friends. Would it make a difference anyway? He knew that Angel and the others would give their best,   
even without knowing what kind of threat Golgotha really was.  
  
A thousand worlds it has consumed ...  
  
Wesley went back out on the balcony and watched the city burn, praying to whatever gods might be   
listening that this world he had sworn to protect would not be number 1001.  
  
#  
  
"There!" Faith's yell caused Buffy to look where her sister Slayer was pointing. They had ridden their   
poor horses almost into the ground, their hooves bleeding from the hard concrete of the streets, but they   
had finally reached Central Park. In the light of the fires Buffy was able to see the movement of   
shadows.  
  
And a single small figure, crucified to a wall at the park's edge.  
  
"Dawn!" Her scream seemed to drive her horse to one final effort, jumping over the low fence   
surrounding the park and galloping right into the middle of battle. Dozens of shadows surrounded Dawn,   
who was screaming and sobbing for all her little lungs were worth. She was still alive.   
  
With a ferocity that almost frightened her Buffy tore into the shadows. The primal force that had touched   
her, the Slayer, was fully unleashed, all of its strength focused on obliterating those that threatened   
Dawn. The world around her was reduced to enemies and allies, all her senses going into overdrive as   
she moved on pure instinct. Swinging the two torches they had improvised like swords, she was setting   
the living black sheets aflame wherever she found them.  
  
Faith and Willow were half a step behind her, Faith lost in the same fighting madness as her sister   
Slayer. The two of them fell into rhythm, moving almost like a single entity, and the shadows were all   
but helpless before them.  
  
Willow wielded her dragon-forged blade with deadly accuracy, glancing cuts more than enough to   
unleash dragon's fire on her enemies. The shadows screamed as half their number went up in flames   
during the first few seconds.  
  
"We're coming for you, Dawn," Buffy yelled at the young girl, fighting to reach her through the mass of   
opposition. The shadows tried to rip her back, slashing at her with claws of darkness, trying to strangle   
her with invisible hands. None of it touched her, she barely noticed them. They were nothing but   
obstacles, things that had to be removed in order to reach Dawn.  
  
"Buffy!" Dawn saw her, a flicker of hope appearing on her face.  
  
#  
  
"Incoming!" Spike's yell shattered the silence. They had gone down what Angel estimated to be several   
thousand stairs and there was no bottom in sight. Something else was, though, namely a mass of shadow   
creatures erupting from below them.  
  
"We are close," Tara murmured, holding her sword tighter. The blade was already humming, the fire   
enclosed in its steel responding to the magic unleashed by its twin. Willow was fighting, Tara knew, and   
it looked like she was about to join her.  
  
"One way or another," Angel said, jacking a fresh round into his gun, "we have to reach the bottom of   
these stairs."  
  
"No prisoners then," Spike nodded. "Fine by me."  
  
Then the shadows reached them and the three warriors launched into battle.  
  
#  
  
The Harbinger stood in front of the Ring, stolen eyes closed as he basked in the power of his master.   
Soon now. Very soon. The power of the cursed sorcerers was all but spent, its last ember would be   
snuffed when the life of the girl ended. Her soul would flow into the pentagram, her very essence   
empowering that which she had been born to keep imprisoned.  
  
The irony was so very delicious.  
  
A shadow appeared beside him, whispering. The enemies were coming, they had found his stronghold.   
The Harbinger just smiled. Let them come. They would arrive in time to see his master walk the Earth,   
to tremble in terror as its shadow fell upon them all.  
  
"Mere minutes now," he whispered in his stolen voice. "In the dark of this night you shall burn like a   
star."  
  
Suddenly something else drew his attention. Someone was trying to disrupt the ritual. The girl, they   
were trying to save the girl.  
  
Moments later a dead body fell to the ground, black armor vanishing into nothingness, and the sword of   
the Harbinger streaked away into the dark.  
  
#  
  
Buffy's heart skipped a beat when she saw one of the shadows raise a gleaming knife above Dawn's   
head, preparing to thrust it into her heart.  
  
"No!" She was too far away to stop him.  
  
The air shimmered and the knife glanced off an invisible barrier, falling away into the night.  
  
"Get to her," Buffy heard Willow call. "I can't keep her protected for long."  
  
The Slayer redoubled her efforts, thrusting the enemies aside as if they were the lifeless sheets they so   
resembled. The shadow beside Dawn had recovered the knife and was going for another try. Then she   
finally broke through and dove at the wavering darkness, one of her torches still in hand.  
  
The shadow went up in flames, screaming as the fire devoured it.   
  
Buffy came out of her frenzy and realized that the area around Dawn and herself was free of the   
shadows, only burning remains scattered across the ground told of their presence. Faith was fighting the   
few stragglers, using everything from her lighter to burning tree trunks as weapons, quickly finishing   
them off. Willow lowered her blade, panting heavily from the exertion, and relaxed the force shield she   
had conjured up around Dawn.  
  
"Dawn!" Buffy was by the girl's side in a heartbeat. She was strung to the wall with ropes, none of that   
unbreakable magic that had bound the other bodies. They had arrived in time to stop the ritual.  
  
"Buffy," Dawn whimpered, fresh tears on her cheek. Tears of relief.  
  
"You'll be safe now," Buffy stroked her hair, one hand ripping off the ropes. "No one will hurt you   
again, I swear."  
  
For a long moment nothing mattered except holding Dawn in her arms, the girl clinging to her with   
desperate strength. Angel was a faint presence at the edge of her bond, sharing in her relief at Dawn's   
safety, letting her know that they were close to breaking into the center of the pentagram. They would   
need more help, though, meaning Buffy, Faith, and Willow better get moving soon.  
  
In a minute, Buffy resolved.  
  
During the battle it had not mattered to any of them that the ground around the proposed sacrificial site   
was littered with bodies. The shadows had cleared the area of human interference, not caring about the   
lives of those they snuffed. The darkness was hiding most of the bodies from prying eyes, sparing Buffy   
and the others the gruesome pictures.  
  
It also prevented them from seeing the sword that suddenly appeared in the hand of one of the dead   
bodies. A body that began to move once more.  
  
#  
  
Angel had just discarded yet another group of shadows that had tried to stop them, spending yet more of   
his precious bullets, when he gasped and stumbled.  
  
"Peaches?" Spike was by his side in a heartbeat, looking around for any lurking shadow that might have   
hurt him. Only there was none.  
  
Angel screamed as pain flooded into his bond. There was physical pain, a hard and unexpected blow to   
the back of his head – not his head – shortly followed by an anguish that threatened to tear even his dead   
heart to pieces. Angel fell to his knees, breathing heavenly, tears streaming from his eyes as he muttered   
something under his breath.  
  
"No," Spike heard as he held his Sire and friend. "Please no!"  
  
Tara saw him, saw the turmoil flooding into his aura, and then felt something move deep below them.   
Something had just changed. The air was filled with a terrible pressure, as if a door had burst before a   
shock wave, power spilling up the stairway and hitting her like a steam train.  
  
Tara held on to the railing for balance, trying to breathe as malevolence the likes of which she had never   
even imagined threatened to swallow her whole. A stench was creeping up the stairway, the stench of   
roasting human flesh and boiling blood.  
  
"We're too late," she whispered, her face white as a sheet. "We're too late."  
  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 18 - Now Arriving in New York City  
  
  
It all happened so fast.  
  
One moment Buffy was hugging a crying Dawn to her chest, overwhelmed with joy at having come in   
time to save the girl, the next she heard Faith yelling something and the hairs on the back of her neck   
stood up.  
  
There was a noise behind her, a shadow falling over her. Buffy tried to turn around, raising her arms to   
defend Dawn, but she was too slow. The huge figure of the Harbinger struck, his sword slicing through   
the air towards Buffy's neck. Wild instinct made her move, she threw her body down and to the side,   
and instead of slicing through her throat the sword glanced off the top of her head, the impact sending   
her sprawling, stars exploding before her eyes.  
  
"Dawn," someone screamed. Faith?  
  
"She is the last," the Harbinger growled. Buffy saw him raise his sword once more.  
  
"No!" The air around Dawn was shimmering again, Willow pouring her magic into a force field to   
protect her from the killing blow. Faith was moving toward them, but more shadows appeared without   
warning, swarming on her like ants.  
  
"Thus does our enemies' plot fail." The sword sliced through Willow's force field without even slowing   
down and Dawn's scream fell silent.  
  
#  
  
"Dawn is dead," Angel muttered, getting back to his feet. Buffy's pain and anguish was pouring into him   
in huge waves, almost drowning out his own thoughts, but as much as he wanted to take her pain, to   
comfort her, there was no time for that now.  
  
"We're too late," Tara repeated, staring down into the darkness with wide eyes.  
  
"Not yet we're not," Spike dragged them both with him, going further down the stairs. "Maybe that   
magical barrier thing failed but that doesn't mean they've had the time to make good on that yet. Get   
your butt in gear, peaches!"  
  
Angel realized he was right. Whatever had bound this mysterious Ring the Watchers had talked would   
fail with Dawn's death, but the Harbinger would hopefully need some time to use it to complete the   
summoning ritual.  
  
Pushing all of Buffy's pain and fear aside, closing down their bond as far as he could, he joined his two   
friends as they ran down the stairs.  
  
#  
  
In a cavern deep below Bryant Tower the artifact known simply as the Ring stood silent in the dark. For   
over a thousand years it had stood like this, quiet and impassive, surrounded by an invisible barrier that   
would keep man, demon, and god away from it, sealing it for the sake of the world. The barrier could   
only be seen in the light of the flames, when the crimson glare reflected off it, twinkling like a thousand   
little stars.  
  
Then the stars went out.  
  
#  
  
When the finally reached the bottom of the stares the air around them was thick with moving shadows,   
slashing and tearing away at them from all sides. Angel had spent all his bullets, now fighting with torch   
and knife, channeling all the demonic rage he always kept suppressed inside him into his assault. A   
dozen and more wounds covered his body but he did not slow down.  
  
Spike was by his side, covering his back. The bleached vampire used his final bullets for all their worth,   
firing them at the thickest concentrations of shadows, where the unleashed fire spells could do the most   
damage. His ancient leather coat was ripped into so much shreds, his pale body bleeding where the   
creatures had cut him open, but William the Bloody pressed on.  
  
Tara was the one most effective against the shadows, though. The blade Firefang burned them even with   
the slightest touch and the blonde witch used her magical prowess to conjure dozens of small   
witchlights, little more than tiny balls of flame normally used for lighting one's way, but they proved   
devastatingly effective against the shadows.  
  
Before them stretched a vast cave, an underground cathedral of dark rock and glimmering fire. They   
could not see more than a few yards in every direction, but they all felt the malice pressing in on them   
from somewhere ahead. They all felt that they were approaching the center of the darkness.  
  
#  
  
New York was in flames. Most of the people were either out on the streets, driven into madness by a   
force none of them understood, or huddling in the dubious safety of their homes, hoping that the insanity   
and the violence would pass them by.  
  
Outside the black barrier that had enclosed the island of Manhattan there was a flurry of activity.   
Military units were gathering, trying to figure out a way to break through the darkness. Civilians were   
evacuated from the surrounding areas as fast as humanly possible.  
  
Many eyes all over the world were on New York, for in some way they all knew that something terrible   
was happening there. Through some sense none of them was able to describe they could feel it, could   
feel that something monstrous and horrible was about to enter their world and that New York was its   
door.  
  
So they watched, they waited, and they prayed.  
  
#  
  
"Over there," Spike yelled, setting yet another shadow aflame. Was it his imagination or was their   
number finally dwindling? He had lost count of how many of these creatures he and the others had   
destroyed, had lost count of the pains raking his body from where they had torn away at him. He was   
dead, he could take it. The only thing that mattered was reaching ... that.  
  
The writings of the Council had called it the Ring, an indestructible artifact that must never be used lest   
it bring the horror of Golgotha on them all.  
  
"It sure is big," Spike mumbled.  
  
They were standing alone, the shadows either gone or regrouping for the moment. The Ring loomed   
directly ahead of them, a black arch of metal or marble that rose about twenty feet in height, strange and   
disturbing runes carved into it. Tara gasped, the very sight of the thing like a black claw gripping her   
heart.  
  
"This is it," she whispered. "We have to destroy it."  
  
Spike and Angel nodded, the latter reaching into his coat, taking out a couple of grenades he had   
preserved for this occasion. He had no idea whether the explosions would be able to destroy what twelve   
of the world's greatest sorcerers could not, but if nothing else it would bury the thing below a few   
thousand tons of rock.  
  
This was no time for finesse.  
  
"Let's do this." Angel moved forward, grenades in hand.  
  
"I don't think so." Without warning the Harbinger appeared before him, a cold body that had been lying   
on the ground, hidden by shadows, suddenly rising to be encased in black armor. Angel froze, staring the   
black creature.  
  
"We will stop you," he told him, carefully slipping the grenades back into his coat pocket. "We won't   
allow you too succeed here."  
  
"Won't you?" Below his black helmet the Harbinger seemed to smile.  
  
The darkness around them came alive once more and shadows poured toward them, the wraiths coming   
forth from every crack and pore in the rocks, swarming them like ants. Spike noticed that there were   
indeed fewer of them now, but still more than enough to drive them back.  
  
The Harbinger, seeing his enemies detained for the moment, turned toward the Ring. His master's   
doorway, finally free of the accursed barrier. Everything was ready now. The pentagram was in place.   
He would have liked to include the final offspring in its magic, but it was not essential to its working.   
The lives of hundreds had flown into it. The fact that some of those lives were the descendants of the   
twelve sorcerers was but a welcome bonus.  
  
Now only one thing was missing. The Harbinger raised his sword and walked toward the gate.  
  
#  
  
"He's going to set that thing in motion," Spike yelled over the screams of burning shadows. "Peaches,   
you have to stop him!"  
  
Angel was closest to the Harbinger, who was standing in front of the Ring with his sword clutched in   
both hands. There seemed to be a ripple around him, as if the darkness itself was trying to move away   
from him.  
  
"Tara," Angel yelled at the witch. "Can you clear a path for me?"  
  
There were still a lot of shadows between him and the creature and he was out of weapons. The torch   
had flickered and died, his bullets were spent, and he did not dare waste the grenades. Tearing into the   
shadows with his hands and the long knife he carried with him did not prove very effective.  
  
Tara was defending herself as best as she could, calling a spell of light that made her flesh glow and sent   
the shadows cowering. Seeing the situation at hand she quickly made a decision.  
  
"Catch!" Angel's hand reached out by instinct to grasp the sword Tara threw his way. Firefang hummed   
as cold fingers closed around it, the blade displeased at being wielded by someone else than the one for   
whom it had been forged. Had Angel wrested it from Tara's hand against her will the sword would have   
burned him. As it was he felt but a slight discomfort.  
  
Slashing the blade in vicious arcs he cleared a space before him, sending the remaining wraiths   
screaming into the darkness where they had come from, opening up a path to his main opponent, who   
seemed oblivious to the battle going on behind him. Angel raised the dragonblade for a decapitation   
blow.  
  
The Harbinger turned around and met him with his own sword, the two blades crashing together in a   
shower of sparks.  
  
"You are too late," the creature hissed, its eyes glowing crimson behind the helmet. "Your world   
belongs to my master."  
  
"Not yet!"  
  
Angel remembered the many movies he had seen over the years, where sword fights would always last   
minutes without end, the opponents going back and forth. Real sword fights were not like that, not when   
people were actually trying to kill each other. They always ended within a few blows.  
  
The Harbinger was the superior swordsman, which Angel realized quickly. But apparently the creature   
had yet to realize that he was a vampire and that only decapitation would kill him. So when the   
Harbinger thrust forward to impale him Angel allowed it to happen, hissing in pain as the sword buried   
itself in his side.  
  
"You will not see the end of your ..." the Harbinger began, only to be interrupted when Angel, his   
opponent's sword trapped, swung the dragonblade in a vicious arc and cut the creature's head off.  
  
The black armor vanished, a cold body falling to the floor. The sword clattered free of Angel's flesh and   
a moment later Spike was upon it, nailing the blade to the floor with two knives from the seemingly   
never-ending supply of weapons he carried in his coat.  
  
"That thing's not going anywhere," Spike nodded, pleased as he saw the sword struggle, trying to break   
free, but not succeeding.  
  
"That takes the Harbinger out of the game," Angel got back to his feet, ignoring the pain from the fresh   
wound. Being impaled twice in the span of a few hours was a poor record even for him.  
  
For a moment the tension seemed to evaporate around them. There were no more shadows attacking   
from the darkness. Whether that was because they had finally reached the end of their numbers or just   
because the Harbinger was no longer around to give them orders they did not know, but it did not matter   
right now. It was over.  
  
Then they all looked up as the Ring suddenly began to glow.  
  
"This is not good," Spike murmured, taking a step back.  
  
"He activated it." Tara's voice was a frightened whisper.  
  
The three warriors looked on in horror as the obsidian arch blazed in an unholy light, the symbols carved   
into it standing out in red flame. A humming filled the cavern all around them, growing stronger with   
every passing second.  
  
Angel passed the sword back to Tara, picking up his own discarded knife. "Stand ready!"  
  
"Whatever it is, we can take it," Spike took up position beside him, eyes fixed on the portal forming   
before them. "Thing is only twenty feet high. We've faced bigger demons."  
  
A gust of flame shot out of the shimmering vortex, lancing straight up. The cave ceiling cracked above   
them, rocks raining down, forcing them back. The fire borrowed a tunnel right into the rock, blazing   
brighter and brighter.  
  
On street level the few onlookers still around flinched back as all the windows on the bottom level of the   
Bryant Tower blew out at the same time, flames leaking from the ragged holes, the screams of the   
people still barricaded in the lobby drowned out by the roar. The windows on the first floor were next,   
only a heartbeat passing between the explosions. The flames climbed higher and higher, raining millions   
of broken glass shards down on the burning city.  
  
The fire exploded from the tip of the tower and lanced upward into the black dome that spanned the   
island, fire and shadow mingling as the entire city was bathed in crimson light. On the shores of New   
Jersey soldiers and generals watched in awe as the dome began to glow from inside, many of them   
whispering prayers underneath their breath.  
  
Then the black dome exploded into a million shards of darkness. More flames were pouring forth from   
the ruined spire that had been Bryant Tower, enlarging the fiery vortex forming above it with every   
passing second. Six million people looked upwards at the spectacle, frozen where they stood as the   
heavens above them were eclipsed by a whirlpool of fire, a giant disk of energy easily the size of a   
dozen football stadiums.  
  
When no more rocks were raining down from above Spike, Angel, and Tara carefully stepped below the   
hole the flames had left in the ceiling of the cave, looking up. They could see right through the scorched   
interior of the tower, all the way up to the skies lit by fire.  
  
All of them could see a dark shape moving in the flames, slowly growing larger.  
  
"Or maybe we haven't," Spike muttered.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 19 - From Fire and Shadow  
  
  
Willow slowly managed to force herself back to full consciousness, shaking off the headache that was   
humming behind her forehead. She was not entirely sure what had happened, but she knew this kind of   
pain only too well. Magical backlash effect. One of her spells had been forcibly broken and the feedback   
had sent her reeling.  
  
With a start she remembered what spell she had woven last. Dawn! The Harbinger had tried to kill her   
and Willow had tried to keep him away, trying to protect his intended victim with a force field. Then his   
sword had hit her field and she had been knocked for a loop. Did that mean ...  
  
When her vision finally cleared she saw that it meant exactly that.  
  
"Dawn," she whispered, struggling to her feet.  
  
About twenty feet in front of her Buffy was kneeling on the grass, her blonde hair matted with blood,   
cradling something to her chest. Something that did not move, something that was covered in blood, so   
much blood. Faith was kneeling by her side, staring at the thing in Buffy's arms with eyes wide with   
shock, muttering something under her breath. Buffy's body was shaking with sobs.  
  
"No!" Willow managed a few shaky steps, bringing her closer to the two Slayers and the .. the thing. She   
had to think of it as a thing, otherwise ...  
  
Dawn was lying in Buffy's arms, her eyes open and staring up at Willow with supreme disinterest. The   
emptiness in those eyes was terrible to behold, staring out of a pale face sprinkled with blood. Willow   
found that her hands and knees were shaking, everything inside her refusing to believe that this had   
happened. They were the good guys. They were supposed to win, supposed to protect the people that   
depended on them. If they could not even save one little girl, then what ...  
  
Willow's thoughts were cut off when the city was suddenly bathed in a crimson glare, a hundred times   
brighter than the light of the fires. The witch looked up just in time to see the tip of Bryant Tower, tallest   
of New York's skyscrapers, burst apart in an explosion that lit half the island. A lance of fire thrust   
upward into the black dome and shattered it, then reformed into a fiery vortex that seemed to cover the   
skies from horizon to horizon.  
  
Something moved inside the flames, something dark and terrible. Willow began to scream.  
  
#  
  
"You've got a good 150 years on me, peaches," Spike whispered without taking his eyes off the thing   
hovering in the sky. "You ever seen anything like that?"  
  
Angel had indeed seen something like that before. Nearly forty years ago when he had stood in front of a   
portal created by the demon Akathler, who was preparing to swallow the world. Angel remembered   
looking into the flames, seeing the shapes moving on the other side of that fiery threshold, and knowing   
that he had to do whatever it took to keep the world safe from that.  
  
Back then he had known how, even though it had almost cost him his life. This time, though ...  
  
The two vampires and Tara were looking straight up through the shattered spire of Bryant Tower,   
looking at a sky in flames. Shadows were moving among the fire, shadows that were coming closer and   
closer. At their feet the sword of the Harbinger hummed with the unleashed energy, almost as if it   
rejoiced. It's master was coming.  
  
"We need to do something," Angel resolved, shaking himself loose from the sight above. "Tara, let's   
take a look at the Ring. Maybe we can figure out some way to stop this."  
  
The witch gave him a doubting look, but joined him nevertheless. Spike remained a moment longer,   
staring at the spectacle taking place above Manhattan island. He had not said prayers in more than a   
century. The last time had been a few short years after the return of his soul, when the pain had been so   
great that he had wanted to die. Never since then, though. Despite the fact that he had a soul he was also   
a demon and demons had no business praying to God.  
  
So he was quite surprised to find that his lips were moving, uttering the words of a half-forgotten prayer   
taught to him by his father.  
  
"God have mercy on us all," he finished. Then he tore himself loose and followed Angel and Tara.  
  
#  
  
The military units stationed on the shores of New Jersey carried enough firepower to reduce the city to   
ruins several times over. The soldiers manning them had been briefed that some kind of supernatural   
event was taking place in Manhattan, something that had cut the city off from the rest of the world,   
something that might prove to be dangerous for the world as a whole. They also knew that, should it be   
deemed necessary, they would be ordered to use the firepower at their fingertips to destroy New York,   
along with its million of inhabitants.  
  
Some of them had cringed. Some of them had even refused to take part in this. Others had just nodded,   
saluted, hiding their feelings of dread and revulsion deep inside. Most of them had prayed that this worst   
case would never come to pass, that the whole thing would be resolved peacefully.  
  
Now, though, they all feared that they had been wrong.  
  
The first anyone saw of the creature emerging from the fiery vortex was a pair of eyes. They appeared in   
the shadows, two slits of red flame the size of lakes. They beheld the world that lay beneath them,   
looked upon the banquet prepared by the Harbinger. Somewhere in the shadows something growled, a   
sound completely inhuman.  
  
Golgotha was pleased with what it saw.  
  
A moment later the shadows parted and something stabbed down from the vortex into the heart of the   
city. It was made from glistening scales, covered with fire, bristling with shadows and spikes. Like a   
giant tentacle it reached down and grabbed hold in the bedrock of the city, latching on to the very   
foundations of the island.  
  
The soldiers stared at it, their brains refusing to make sense of what their eyes saw. Where the tentacle   
touched the ground the air itself seemed to dim, grow dark as if the very life was sucked from it. The   
shadows churning around it peeled off the scales and started spreading, separating into thousands upon   
thousands of wraiths, scurrying through the buildings like a plague of locusts, falling on the terrified   
people of New York.  
  
The screams could be heard all the way across the river and finally snapped the soldiers out of their   
shock.  
  
"Open fire!" No one was quite sure who had screamed the order, whether it was a general or a lowly   
foot soldier, but no one cared.  
  
Moments later, even as a second tentacle reached down from the vortex, the thunder of weapons fire   
filled the air.  
  
#  
  
Something penetrated past the haze that had lowered over Buffy. She did not know how much time had   
passed since the world had come to a halt all around her, reduced to the bloodied form lying in her arms,   
consisting of nothing but pain and regret. She had failed. She had promised Dawn that she would keep   
her safe, that no one would be able to harm her. Only that promise was now lying in pieces at her feet,   
broken just like Dawn's small body was lying broken in her arms.  
  
She should have been faster, should have been stronger. The Harbinger was just another demon, she   
should have sensed its coming in time, should have been able to fend it off. Only she had not and Dawn   
had paid the price.  
  
*Buffy!*  
  
Was there someone calling out to her? No, could not be. Who would want to speak to a failure like her?   
The great and powerful Slayer, older and stronger than any other Slayer in history had ever been, and yet   
she could not even save one little girl. What use was she to anyone?  
  
With a start she became aware of her bond to Angel once more, all but forgotten in the turmoil of the last   
few hours. Her husband's love and support was flooding into her mind, his tender feelings trying to   
dispel that darkness that had taken hold inside of her. No, what was he doing? Did he not understand   
what she had done? She had failed to save Dawn, had failed to save the one she had sworn to protect.   
She did not deserve his love, did not deserve ...  
  
He gave her no choice. The bond between them had originally been created to connect a master to his   
slave, to bind a vampire to his human servant. Neither Angel nor Buffy had ever used it for that purpose,   
had never tried to control the other via the connection they shared. Even now Angel did nothing of the   
sort, he just continued to pour his emotions into her. She felt his love, his need to let her know that she   
had done everything she could, that it was not her fault. She also felt his desperation. Something was   
happening, something even more terrible than that little girl dying in her arms. It was happening right   
now, all around her, and she needed to open her eyes.  
  
Buffy's eyes snapped open just in time to see the second of the giant tentacles burrow into the bedrock   
of the island, a sheer endless number of shadows peeling off from its flaming surface. She saw the two   
huge eyes looking down from the fiery vortex, looking down as if the entire island, the entire world was   
nothing but a delicious dish about to be consumed.  
  
The Slayer inside of her finally reared its head again, coming out of the valley of despair Dawn's death   
had banished it to. Yes, she had failed to protect the girl, but right now that did not matter any longer.   
She would grieve later, would grieve for the girl who she had felt so strongly for, but not now. Now the   
world was in danger and it was her job to protect it.  
  
Something streaked through the sky and hit one of the tentacles in a blinding explosion, sending   
hundreds of the shadow creatures screaming into the twilight. A growl filled the air even as more   
missiles streaked toward the monstrous being from somewhere beyond Buffy's view, blooming into   
miniature suns as they struck its scaly hide.  
  
"Looks like the battle has started without us," she mumbled, only now becoming aware of Faith kneeling   
in front of her, staring at Dawn.  
  
Forcibly holding back yet more tears she gently lowered Dawn's body to the ground and grabbed Faith   
with her blood-covered hands, shaking her sister Slayer until their eyes locked. Just like with Angel they   
barely needed words between them. There was a bond between them as well, a bond composed of the   
primal force they were both avatar to.  
  
Faith snapped out of her haze, breathing heavily.  
  
"Dawn," she whispered.  
  
"I know," Buffy told her, wiping a tear from her face. "But now we have to save the world, Faith. You   
ready?"  
  
Her chocolate eyes turned away from Buffy and took in the monstrosity hanging in the sky over New   
York, seemingly untouched by the destruction unleashed against it. They both knew that this thing was   
Golgotha, was the monster the Harbinger and its shadows had been trying to unleash. This was the   
reason Dawn had died.  
  
"Let's get the bastard," Faith forced out between clenched teeth.  
  
They both jumped to their feet, startling Willow whose eyes were fixed to the monster, dragging her   
along as they started running. Buffy did not know what they would be able to do against Golgotha, but   
that did not matter even in the least. One way or another it would pay for Dawn's death. Oh yes, it would   
pay.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 20 - About the Opening and Closing of Doors  
  
  
  
"This definitely isn't good, peaches!"  
  
"Do tell!"  
  
Spike and Angel stood side by side at the top of the stairway that led down into the cave, standing in   
what had been the lobby of Bryant Tower just a short time ago. From here they were able to see a lot   
more of what was happening above ground at the moment and neither of them liked it.  
  
The sky was almost black with legions of shadow wraiths, more of them pouring out of the dimensional   
vortex with every passing second. Missiles thundering in from somewhere off the island set them ablaze   
by the hundreds, but there were always more to take their place and their high-pitched screams assaulted   
the two vampires' sharpened senses.  
  
Most of the vortex was filled with something that neither Spike nor Angel had words to describe. A   
thing of glistening black scales, flames dancing around it like a suit of armor, blazing red eyes gazing   
down on them with contempt and hunger, huge black tentacles reaching down and burrowing into the   
bedrock of the island.  
  
"Golgotha, I presume," Angel mumbled, looking up at the thing that was invading their world.  
  
A missile exploded against the side of one tentacle, the fireball blooming like a miniature sun and   
evaporating several dozens of the shadow wraiths. The tentacle itself looked unharmed, though,   
apparently still digging deeper into the ground.  
  
"Those missiles are not doing much good," Angel mused, trying to spot their point of origin. "Whoever   
is in charge over there will soon realize that and switch to heavier ordnance."  
  
"Heavier as in nuclear?" Spike gave him a look.  
  
"If all else fails."  
  
"Great! Do you think this is some kind of delayed payback for setting off that tactical nuke over Russia a   
few decades ago?"  
  
Angel did not answer, just closed his eyes and tried to home in on his wife. Buffy had overcome the   
shock of Dawn's death, at least for the moment, and was on her way here along with Faith and Willow.   
He could feel the fury that thundered through her, burning with the intensity of a star. Someone had to   
pay for Dawn's murder and the thing filling their skies had gotten itself elected.  
  
Now they only needed to find a way to do it.  
  
With the shattering of the black dome the magic that had disabled all electronic equipment in New York   
had faded as well, everything was in working order once more. Angel took out his com and called to   
Tara, who was still down in the cave.  
  
"Anything?"  
  
He heard the witch utter a tired sigh through their connection, which was sizzling with static from the   
explosions and the unleashed energy of the vortex.  
  
"Not much," Tara confessed. "The Ring has gone inactive again after sending up that energy burst. I can   
still feel the power of the pentagram, though. It's sustaining the vortex. With the number of human   
sacrifices in the conjuring circle it can probably keep doing so for hours, if not days."  
  
"Any way to disrupt it?" Angel looked at the tentacles that had burrowed into the ground. It appeared   
that Golgotha had some difficulties bringing its massive form through and would need a while to do so.   
If they could close the vortex before that happened they would cut the monster in half. Angel doubted   
even a city-sized greater demon could survive that.  
  
"I am not sure," Tara confessed. "If we can find a way to reactivate the Ring we might be able to create   
a second vortex. Overlapping the two dimensional gateways would certainly cause some kind of   
disruption, but right now I have no idea how this thing works, much less how to open a second vortex   
with it."  
  
Angel nodded. "Willow is on her way here. Maybe the two of you together can figure out a way to do   
this."  
  
"Maybe," Tara said, Angel almost able to see her smile at the thought of Willow coming. "Now that the   
coms are working again I will try and contact some of our people at Magitech. Maybe they have an   
idea."  
  
"Give it your best," Angel said. "We'll try and find a way to delay Golgotha until you come up with   
something."  
  
He put away his com and noticed that Spike was giving him a look.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Please tell me you have a brilliant plan on how to accomplish that little 'delaying-the-city-sized-  
monster' thing you just promised Tara."  
  
"Not exactly a plan."  
  
"Thought so," Spike nodded, looking at the nearest spot where one of the giant tentacles had touched   
down. "So I guess we just go over there and try hitting it a lot, hoping we can at least get its attention,   
right?"  
  
"Got a better idea?"  
  
"Nope!"  
  
The thunder of hoof beats made them both look up just in time to see two horses brought to a stop in   
front of the building, the animals clearly close to panicking. Buffy jumped off her horse, closely   
followed by Willow and Faith.  
  
With no clear idea how he got there Angel was by his wife's side and closed her in his arms, holding her   
tight. He refrained from asking her whether she was all right, feeling the turmoil of her emotions across   
their bond. Nothing was all right at the moment, that much was apparent.  
  
"Any good news?" She looked up at him, reluctantly letting go of their embrace. He could feel how   
worn out she was, could feel the anguish she had pushed down in order to function. None of them could   
afford to break down. Later, when all this was over, but not now.  
  
"Willow, Tara is waiting for you below," Angel told the redhead. "This vortex was created by the   
artifact Wesley told us about, the Ring. Tara thinks if we can somehow reactivate it we might be able to   
throw a wringer into Golgotha's plans to enter our world."  
  
"On my way!" Willow whizzed down the stairs with a speed belying her age.  
  
"Let's hope the witchy girls are still as witchy as ever," Spike mumbled, lighting a cigarette and taking a   
deep drag.  
  
"What about the Harbinger?" Faith's face was a mask of rage and fury, her hands itching with the need   
to get a shot at the bastard who had killed Dawn.  
  
"He is detained for the moment," Angel told them. "We pinned down his sword when he abandoned his   
latest host body. Without a new form he is helpless."  
  
Both the Slayers looked like they wanted nothing better than to find that sword and break it into tiny   
little pieces, but they both knew that they had other problems to deal with at the moment. Much bigger   
problems.  
  
"So what's the plan?" Buffy looked at Angel and Spike. "You do have a plan, right?"  
  
Spike smirked. "Of course. Plan B, right Peaches?"  
  
"That's the plan where we go over there and try hitting a lot, right?" Faith looked toward the nearest   
tentacle with blazing eyes. "Works for me."  
  
Angel's com buzzed in his pocket. With a frown he took it out and looked at the display.  
  
"It's Darla," he told the others, listening to the voice of his Sire at the other end of a bad connection. The   
shadow of a smile appeared on his face.  
  
"What?" Buffy caught some impressions over their bond.  
  
"It appears the Vampirium decided to move some troops of its own into position the moment the black   
dome went up. Darla was calling to ask whether we might need anything in the way of ordnance or   
reinforcements."  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. "Tell her to stop the witty commentary and get her ass in gear!"  
  
#  
  
All bridges and tunnels leading towards Manhattan had been cut off by the black dome, leaving the   
island completely inaccessible to ground units. Contingency plans had been made, though, preparations   
had been completed during the hours the black dome had been up. Barely twenty minutes after the first   
appearance of the vortex transport planes began to drop armored ground vehicles onto Manhattan, along   
with the first battalions of special troops.  
  
The air force was also beginning to join the fight, their primary mission to contain the shadow creatures   
that were pouring forth from the vortex to the island, allowing none of them to scatter and endanger   
other parts of America and, by extension, the world.  
  
When Vampirium troops moved onto the scene and offered their support no one even thought of denying   
their aid. During the past few decades the military had learned to appreciate the value of preternatural   
soldiers and there were none better than the Tarakans. The grim vampires moved onto the island within   
minutes, brought across the river with boats or quickly swimming the distance at speeds no human could   
hope to match. A few of them carried large bundles of weapons and equipment, to be given to allies   
already on sight at prearranged rendezvous coordinates.  
  
Thirty minutes after Golgotha's first appearance resistance began in earnest.  
  
"Okay, people," Angel looked at his friends and allies, all of them now armed to the teeth. "Let's   
welcome Golgotha to Earth!"  
  
And deep beneath the ground two witches were doing their best to figure out a completely alien magical   
artifact in order to save the world.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 21 - Welcome to Earth, Golgotha  
  
  
Tara had her eyes closed and slowly moved her hand across the surface of the Ring, her palm hovering   
but millimeters over the pitch black surface of the artifact. Even though it was dormant now it still gave   
off a magical buzz that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight. She was not a trained   
Seeker, but over the years she had come into contact with quite a few magical artifacts and being good at   
aura reading she had gotten a feel for most of them.  
  
This was not like anything she had ever sensed before. It was magic, yes, but so dark and alien that a   
large part of her mind wanted nothing more than to go and hide in a dark corner, her knees clasped to her   
chest, hoping that it would all go away if only she was quiet enough. It would not, of course. They could   
see that much through the hole in the ceiling, could hear it by the thundering of explosions outside.  
  
"You getting all this?" Willow was speaking into her com, which was connected to their primary   
research team back in California. The tiny camera built into the com was trained on the symbols   
covering the black arch, feeding them directly to the people at Magitech and into some of the most   
powerful magically enhanced computers in the world.  
  
"We're cross-referencing with the Vampirium people and the old Watchers Council database," a voice   
on the other end said. Frederic Messner was Magitech's chief specialist for ancient languages and   
magical archeology. "So far we've picked up but a few of the symbols. I'm afraid they are not making   
too much sense yet."  
  
"Keep at it," Willow looked over at Tara, who was still studying the Ring. "Anything?"  
  
"It draws power from the pentagram," Tara whispered, her hand still hovering over the artifact. "The   
power is weakening, though. In a few hours it will be spent."  
  
Willow did not need any help to figure out what that meant. Once the power was spent the only way to   
reactivate the Ring would be a new pentagram. New victims.  
  
"Fred," she spoke into her com. "We're working on a very tight schedule here. A few hours at the most.   
Bring in whoever you need, spend whatever money you must, but find me an answer!"  
  
"We'll do our best," Messner assured her, which did not sound all that assuring to Willow right now.   
Not with the entire cave shaking around them as something big exploded above ground.  
  
Tara barely noticed, following some indescribably feeling that she was closing in on something   
important.  
  
#  
  
One of Golgotha's giant tentacles had burrowed right into the center of Times Square and a troop of   
soldiers, both human and vampire, were doing their best to dislodge it. So far, though, they had not met   
with much success.  
  
"I don't fuckin' believe this," a soldier mumbled, having shot a missile from a rocket launcher into the   
thing, which achieved absolutely no effect. "Maybe we should try to spit at it."  
  
"Move aside!" Faith pushed the men out of her way, brandishing an enchanted sword on loan from the   
Tarakan enforcers. It was not as powerful as the dragon blades Willow and Tara carried, but she figured   
anything that could cut through the armor of a tank without even denting had to be good for something.  
  
Maybe she should apologize to the very frightened tank commander later on for trying out the sword on   
his vehicle.  
  
"What are you ...," the soldier began, only to fall silent when he saw the blade in Faith's hands glow in   
an eerie light. That, coupled with the murderous look in her eyes, vanquished any thoughts he might   
have had about stepping in her way.  
  
"Watch your Aunty Faith now, little soldier boys," the dark-haired Slayer said, running toward the   
tentacle. "This is how you deal with your typical city-sized demon monster!"  
  
Faith swung the blade with all her might and struck the glistening black scales that rose in front of her   
like a wall. Fire erupted where the blade met the demon's skin, a blinding explosion that left Faiths   
seeing spots and patting out some flames that had jumped onto her clothes. An angry red gash was   
visible where she had struck, some kind of black liquid oozing out of it and hitting the ground with a   
hiss like acid, setting the pavement on fire.  
  
Though some part of her was feeling smug about having inflicted a wound, the rational part of her   
realized that it was less than a mosquito bite to a thing this big. Odds were it had not even felt it.  
  
"Well, Rome wasn't demolished in a day," she mumbled and kept slashing at the tentacle, planning to   
put a sword like this on her wish list for Christmas. How come the Tarakans and the witches had all the   
best toys and she did not?  
  
#  
  
"Stand ready!" Angel looked at the Tarakans assembled behind him. Three dozen of them, all armed to   
the teeth. Buffy was hovering by his side, a bundle of sheer aggression that needed some kind of outlet.   
Well, he mused, they had plenty of opportunity for that, at least.  
  
"Go!" Angel, Buffy, and half a dozen of the Tarakans sprang into motion, all of them carrying weapons   
from the Vampirium's secret arsenal. Magical weaponry assembled over the eons, artifacts that   
occasionally surfaced in obscure history texts and some Hollywood movies, but no one ever really   
believed in. Angel was quite impressed with what Darla had brought together in so short a time.  
  
A few dozen shadow wraiths were between them and the tentacle that had burrowed down in front of   
them, but they were quickly dealt with. The creatures' strength rested mostly in their numbers and once   
you knew how to handle them they did not pose much of a threat individually. Moments later the eight   
warriors reached the tentacle and started hacking away at the scales with their weapons, quickly cracking   
open the hide that resisted missiles and artillery shells with ease. They opened a wound the size of   
several men and then jumped to the side.  
  
"Fire!"  
  
The other Tarakans carried the latest in techno-magical weaponry, opening up with an arsenal that could   
have won World War II single-handedly. Missiles that carried enchantments, bullets with runes carved   
into them, guided projectiles delivering spells of dark magic that would inevitably corrupt any person   
using it, but did absolutely nothing to cold, soulless circuitry.  
  
All that firepower was poured into the open wound that Buffy, Angel, and the others had inflicted,   
striking directly at the black flesh that lay within. The tentacle shook with the impact and a tremendous   
roar filled the air around them.  
  
"Think that hurt it?" Buffy looked up at the vortex above them, where the bulk of Golgotha had yet to   
appear. A moment later she shoved Angel to the side, quickly yelling at everyone to take cover.  
  
Liquid fire spilled down from the sky, striking the spot where they had stood just seconds ago. The   
pavement vaporized in an instant, exploding shards of concrete rained down on the cowering vampires   
like lethal rain, ripping flesh and spilling blood. The tentacle still shook, but was now burrowing deeper   
into the concrete, taking the gaping wound they had inflicted below ground level.  
  
"I don't know about the hurting," Angel got back to his feet, looking at the molten pavement in front of   
them. "But it's a good bet we got it's attention."  
  
#  
  
General Thomas Fairbanks stood beside his command vehicle on the shores of the Hudson River and   
looked at the monster hanging in the skies over Manhattan. He knew that the world contained demons   
and beasts, things that would eat small children and tear grown men into little pieces. He knew all about   
vampires, werewolves, and dozens of other demons, had met quite a few of them, had fought both with   
and against them on numerous occasions.  
  
He had never seen anything like this, though. Not even close.  
  
"General, sir," his assistant came toward him. "It's the president. He wants an update on the situation."  
  
General Fairbanks sighed deeply and checked the numbers flashing across the holographic display on his   
wrist. So far their losses had been minimal, as the giant demon seemed incapable of any great movement   
at the moment. The shadow creatures were the greater threat right now. Even though they could be   
picked off rather easily there was a sheer endless number of them and they swarmed over airplanes and   
armored vehicles like locusts, easily penetrating armored steel and slashing the soldiers within into   
pieces. At the moment they were still contained to the island and long-range fire decimated their   
numbers almost as quickly as they appeared. Almost.  
  
Still, they had losses. What they did not have was anything to show for it.  
  
"General?"  
  
Realizing that his assistant was still waiting for an answer he looked at the younger man and came to a   
painful decision.  
  
"Tell the president that we may have to consider the nuclear option."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Having trouble with your hearing, soldier?"  
  
"No, sir. I will deliver the message."  
  
General Fairbanks knew of the reputation he had in the service. Many called him emotionless. Hard as   
steel. Devoid of any human warmth. It was one of the reasons he often drew the tough assignments. The   
ones where a single man might have to decide between the fate of a few million civilians and that of the   
entire world.  
  
Yes, General Fairbanks was a man who could make these kind of decisions if he had to.  
  
And no one would hear him weep inside.  
  
#  
  
"Are you sure?" Willow looked at the runes in front of her, projected by the small holoscreen of her   
com. The minutes had flown by so fast and she knew that time was running out. They could feel the   
battle going on above them, could hear the screams. Golgotha was still hanging in the sky, still working   
its way through the vortex, but they feared it would not need much longer.  
  
"We could double-check it, of course," Messner said on the other side of the connection, "but I was   
under the impression that we do not have another few hours to do that."  
  
"You go the right impression," Willow mumbled, finding her mouth dry and her hands shaking. Angel   
had called them a few minutes ago, wanting to know how far along they were. Things were going badly   
upstairs. No matter how hard they fought their friends were barely able to hurt the giant demon.  
  
"All right!"  
  
Willow shook Tara by the shoulder, bringing her out of the trance. "Messner and the others have   
cobbled together a spell that should activate the Ring. You ready?"  
  
Tara hesitated. She had the feeling that they were missing something, something just beyond the edge of   
her awareness. Willow was right, though, they were running out of time. The power of the pentagram   
was weakening, feeding the giant vortex that allowed the giant demon access to their world. They had to   
do something while they still had the power to do so.  
  
Tara did not want to think about what they might have to do if they failed and needed to power up the   
Ring with a new pentagram.  
  
"Let's do it," Tara resolved, taking Willow's hand.  
  
The two witches closed their eyes and invoked the spell. Magic was thick in the air around them,   
invisible fingers brushing across the runes spread out across the arch of the Ring. Even through closed   
eyes they saw that some of the runes glowed, rippled, changed their shapes. Power poured in from   
above, a power dark and thick with the screams of human beings that had died in agony. They felt the   
pentagram carved into the island, felt the power of several hundred snuffed lives as it rippled around the   
Ring.  
  
For a moment the ground seemed to give out beneath them, a weight so great that it ripped right through   
the fabric of space, threatening to tear a hole into their world and access another. The two witches   
gasped as power the likes of which they had never known brushed over their skins, danced all around   
them until they almost fainted from the smell of blood.  
  
Then the moment faded. The Ring remained silent.  
  
"Not good," Willow mumbled, panting. "Definitely not good."  
  
Some feet away the sword of the Harbinger, still nailed to the ground, seemed to chuckle.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 22 - Is This Interdimensional Gate Thing Working?  
  
  
Buffy and Angel were resting against the wall of a building, both of them tired and covered in sooth and   
ash. Most of the city was burning by now, both from the military's continuous barrage against Golgotha   
and the demon's flames, which had burned more than one of their allies to ashes by now. They had   
managed to inflict some wounds on the giant tentacles, but nothing more than scratches considering the   
size of their target. At best they were distracting it momentarily, nothing more.  
  
Angel's com chirped and he and Buffy saw Tara's face materialize in front of them.  
  
"I hope you have some good news, Tara," Angel said, "because we could really use some right now."  
  
"Sorry to disappoint you," the hologram said, "but I'm afraid the news aren't all that good. Our people at   
Magitech managed to decipher most of the runes and cobble together a spell to activate the Ring, but it   
did not work."  
  
"A mistake in the spell?" Angel ducked down when something exploded nearby, sending shrapnel in   
their direction. Golgotha had gotten a lot more aggressive since they had started fighting back in earnest   
and was raining liquid fire down on the city from above, where the bulk of its being was still safely   
tucked away inside the vortex. Maybe once it came out fully they would be able to harm it. Or maybe it   
would just spell the end for all of them.  
  
"I don't think so," Tara shook him from his morbid thoughts. "Willow and I both felt the power building   
from the pentagram. It's like there was something missing at the end, something like a final activation   
sequence. Angel, you were closest to the Harbinger when it activated the Ring the first time. Did you see   
anything of what it did, anything that might offer us a clue why our spell did not work?"  
  
Tara's image vanished in a hail of static for a moment as Angel tried to remember the exact events down   
in the cave. They had fought their way through the shadow wraiths protecting the Ring, closing in on the   
motionless form of the Harbinger, who had knelt in front of the Ring as if lost in prayer or meditation.  
  
There had been some movement around the creature, he remembered, some kind of ripple in the   
darkness surrounding it. Concentrating on that memory Angel closed his eyes, reliving the scene. He had   
approached the creature from behind, had raised Tara's dragonblade for a decapitation blow, only to   
have the Harbinger turn around at the last split second, meeting the blow with his own sword.  
  
The sword.  
  
"The Harbinger held his sword in hand when he activated the Ring," Angel told Tara. "It seemed like he   
was thrusting it forward and met some kind of resistance that caused the air to ripple."  
  
The witch thought for a few moments, then nodded. "That could be it. Wesley said that the first battle   
against the Harbinger and his creatures ended when the Harbinger's sword was captured. Maybe the   
sword is the final key to activating the Ring."  
  
"Great," Buffy huffed, wiping sweat from her brow. The winter temperatures that had held sway over   
the city these past few weeks had given way to Hell's own climate ever since the vortex had appeared in   
the sky. "So we only need someone picking up that sword and thrusting it into the Ring before the   
Harbinger wakes up and gives you a whole new outfit consisting of black armor."  
  
"She's right," Tara realized, what little hope had been in her eyes vanishing. "Whoever touches the   
sword will transform into the Harbinger."  
  
"I'm not so sure about that," Angel mused. "When we fought in the police station the sword could easily   
have jumped into my hand when I took down its first host body. Instead it took over Captain Trenor and   
attacked me again."  
  
Tara thought that over. "You think our Harbinger friend has an aversion to dead people?"  
  
"No," Buffy interjected. "When he killed ... when he killed Dawn he did it by taking over a dead body,   
not a living one." The steadiness of her own voice surprised her. "He had no problems animating a   
corpse."  
  
"A lifeless corpse," Angel added. "Not one that is already animated by both a soul and a demon."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Angel, all this is speculation. You can't honestly expect me to let you pick up   
that thing based on some wild theories."  
  
"You've got a better idea?"  
  
"I know that your 'I'll risk my life anytime it's possible' approach went out decades ago. There's this   
little thing called Vinculum Dies Noctis Cruentos, remember? Our bond? Whatever we do, we do it   
together."  
  
Angel nodded. The one great drawback of the bond they shared. Their life forces were bound together,   
for better or worse. Worse meaning that, should one of them die, the other would inevitably die as well.   
He knew that, should Buffy die, he would not want to go on living anyway, but there was always that   
tiny voice inside him that kept insisting that it was not right for her to feel the same way. That she should   
go on living even if he crumbled into dust. He had stopped listening to that voice a long time ago, but   
that did not mean it gone silent.  
  
"We have to find a way to use that sword," Angel insisted. "We're running out of time."  
  
Buffy looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "We will find a way. Let's go!"  
  
#  
  
Twenty minutes later they were back inside the cave, which did not really look at that stable anymore.   
The ground and ceiling were shaking with the violence unleashed above, explosions rocking the very   
foundations of the island. Golgotha's tentacles did further damage to the city's bedrock and it was only a   
matter of time until everything came tumbling down.  
  
All four people present knew that.  
  
"Ready?" Angel looked at the two witches.  
  
"The spell does not take long," Willow said. "The moment you pick up the sword we can begin."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Buffy looked on worriedly, even though she knew they did not have a choice. If Angel and Tara were   
right they needed the sword or all was lost. She knew that the military had orders to sterilize Manhattan   
if the monster could not be destroyed or driven back, so at the very least they were looking at several   
million lives in the balance. Maybe more if the greater demon could not be stopped by anything the   
military had to offer.  
  
Even so she did not plan to bet their bound lives on a wild theory that the Harbinger would not be able to   
take over Angel. What they did know was that, no matter whether its host body had been alive or dead to   
being with, it always ended up dead. So they had taken all the precautions they could and prayed for the   
best.  
  
Angel's right arm was encased in an improvised gauntlet they had cobbled together from the shattered   
remains of a tank. Below the battle armor, bent into shape by their combined superhuman strength, his   
arm was wrapped with stripes ripped from his leather coat, offering additional protection. He would   
have little actual motor control, but it should suffice to pick up the sword and hopefully to control it   
should it struggle.  
  
A struggling sword, Buffy shook her head. Even after nearly sixty years her life was not getting any less   
weird.  
  
"No sense putting it off," Angel smiled at her, clearly feeling her worry. "Let's do this!"  
  
She nodded, standing close by just in case.  
  
Angel knelt down beside the sword, which was still nailed to the ground by way of Spike's knives. It   
had ceased struggling a while ago, whether that was because it was pointless or because it had fulfilled   
its purpose was anyone's guess. It was like picking up a needle with a thick winter glove, but Angel   
managed to close the steel fingers around the sword's handle.  
  
Seeing that he had as good a hold as he would ever have Buffy knelt down as well and ripped the knives   
free.  
  
"Start chanting," Angel called out as he rose, the sword shaking violently in his armored hand. Buffy   
could feel the tremors as if they were running up her own arm, could feel the sword struggle against   
Angel's grip. The blade was starting to glow a dull red.  
  
"Hurry!" Angel was straining against the power of the Harbinger's sword, the battle steel that protected   
him beginning to heat up at a rapid rate. Buffy had to turn her face away, the heat emanating from the   
sword singing the ends of her hair from five feet away. Through the bond she felt that some of the heat   
was already penetrating past the steel and leather to Angel's skin.  
  
Willow and Tara had their eyes closed, their hands hovering over the obsidian surface of the Ring, the   
runes set into it beginning to glow as well. Magic was thick in the air all around them, causing the hairs   
on Buffy's neck to stand up.  
  
"This better work," Angel mumbled through clenched teeth, forcing the sword closer to the artifact.  
  
The air around the Ring seemed to shimmer and ripple, the surface of reality disturbed by the power   
building inside it. Angel barely noticed. His world was reduced to the sword bucking in his hand, the   
heat crawling up his arm. As a vampire he had a much higher tolerance for pain than just about any other   
creature alive or dead, but he needed all his will power to keep from screaming.  
  
Drops of molten metal were falling to the cave floor.  
  
"Now," he heard someone scream at him, not able to tell who it was over the searing pain, but he knew   
what he had to do. Thrust the sword forward, thrust it into the rippling energy that surrounded the Ring   
and activate it that way.  
  
With something very much like an agonized scream the steel fingers of his gauntlet snapped and the   
sword broke free of his grasp.  
  
"No!"  
  
Buffy was dazed from the pain she felt leaking across their bond, but her instincts were still working full   
swing. The world around her seemed to move in slow motion as she saw the sword break free from   
Angel's hand, moving through the air as if wielded by an invisible warrior. Only a millisecond passed   
between Buffy's realizing that the sword was arcing toward Willow and Tara and springing into motion.  
  
"Buffy!" Angel was moving as well, the remains of his gauntlet breaking away from his arm even as he   
jumped, his good hand reaching out to deflect the danger that was approaching the two witches. Things   
were moving too fast for Willow and Tara too even notice anything.  
  
Two sets of fingers closed around the hilt of the sword when it was less than a foot away from Tara's   
outstretched hand.  
  
#  
  
High above the city two eyes the size of lakes snapped around to focus on the remains of New York's   
tallest building, narrowing as the giant creature called Golgotha sensed that something important was   
happening.  
  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 23 - For the Darkness Can Not Stand the Light  
  
  
Buffy looked around, confused. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was the cave,   
Angel trying to pick up the sword of the Harbinger. What then? Something had gone wrong, the sword   
had broken free and ... she had touched it. She and Angel had both touched it.  
  
"I knew one just like you," a voice growled at her from the darkness that surrounded her on all sides. "A   
little girl touched by a power she could never hope to grasp."  
  
"You met a Slayer before, great!" Buffy's voice betrayed none of her anxiety. Where was she? Where   
was Angel? "Are you going to bore me to death with your memoirs?"  
  
The black armored shape of the Harbinger peeled out of the darkness in front of her, its crimson eyes the   
only source of light.  
  
"You are a special breed," he glared down at her. "I have seen so many worlds, but flesh like yours,   
suffused with such sweet power ..."  
  
It leaned forward and Buffy knew that it was smiling underneath that black helmet.  
  
"Possessing you will make me stronger than ever before."  
  
For a moment Buffy felt herself paralyzed with fear, images of what this creature would do with her   
stolen flesh. She felt the cold steel of the sword lying in her palm and memories not her own flooded   
into her mind. Memories of a thousand different worlds.  
  
She felt her own feet, clad in black armor, stride across worlds that had been reduced to ashes, saw   
herself in the Harbinger's armor as she ripped through the fabric of time and space to find yet another   
world to feed her master's eternal hunger. Golgotha filled the sky, its gleaming red eyes beheld its most   
faithful servant, and billions of souls screamed in terror as they were consumed, their fear only making   
them sweeter.  
  
"No," Buffy screamed, shattering the memories. "It won't happen! Your journey ends here! Your master   
will not get my world!"  
  
The Harbinger chuckled. "You think you have any choice in the matter? Your battle is lost, Slayer. From   
now on you will serve Golgotha."  
  
She now saw the sword in her hand, saw the darkness rippling around her arm as the black armor slowly   
took shape. Cold crept through her body, an icy emptiness that threatened to extinguish everything that   
was Buffy Summers, leaving nothing but the flesh behind for the Harbinger to possess. She tried to let   
go of the sword, but her fingers did not obey.  
  
"Don't fight it," the Harbinger chided her. "It won't avail you anything."  
  
Buffy looked down at the sword, then up at the creature standing in front of her. The few times she had   
seen this thing take possession of a body had been in the midst of battle, but she remembered them well.   
It had never taken more than a heartbeat, the black armor spreading over the body and snuffing the life   
within faster than even she could react.  
  
Not this time, though. The Harbinger stood in front of her, which was pretty much impossible if he was   
trying to take over her body right at this moment. She was no longer in the cave, even though she could   
not remember leaving it.  
  
None of this was real.  
  
"You can't take me," Buffy said, calm spreading through her body and chasing the cold away.  
  
"I can," the Harbinger insisted, towering over her threateningly.  
  
"If you could you would have done it already." Buffy smiled. "You wouldn't need to coerce me into   
giving up."  
  
"Your flesh is MINE," the creature thundered, its eyes blazing like stars. "Yield!"  
  
"Never!" Buffy reached out to the familiar humming of the bond, feeling Angel's strength flood into her.   
"You can't take me because I'm not alone."  
  
Angel appeared beside her, his hand also resting on the handle of the sword, their fingers interlacing   
around the cold metal. Without even asking she knew that Angel had just gone through the same scene   
as her, the Harbinger trying to convince him to surrender, to take control of his undead flesh.  
  
"You have lost, Harbinger," he said with the barest hint of a smile. "You can take a human, you might   
even be able to take a vampire, but you can't take both of us."  
  
None of this was real, Buffy reminded herself. They were inside her mind, inside her and Angel's mind,   
which the Harbinger was trying to extinguish. Only he could not. He was facing not one mind but two   
and if the decades had taught them anything it was the fact that together they were much, much stronger   
than apart, more than the sum of their parts.  
  
Looking at Angel by her side she realized something else. It was not just the two of them. Angel was a   
dual creature, a human soul forever bound to a demon, and the demon was hovering behind him like a   
shadow, a jagged shape that looked nothing like the human shape it mirrored. Because of their bond she   
knew how often Angel found himself in conflict with the demon that existed within him, kept him alive   
long after time should have taken him. The demon's urges and instincts, its hunger for human blood, its   
taste for pain and destruction, all these things Angel had to handle, to contain.  
  
Not today, though. Today the soul and the demon were nearly in synch with one another, both of them   
furious with the Harbinger for trying to take their flesh and their mate.  
  
"You can not resist me," the Harbinger thundered, growing in size as he towered over them. "Your   
world is already lost!"  
  
"We'll see about that," Angel growled at him, human eyes flashing golden. "Either way, you won't be   
there to see it happen."  
  
The Harbinger screamed, darkness surging toward them from all sides, trying to smother them in black   
steel and cold. A long row of faces flashed in front of them, a sheer endless number of souls the   
Harbinger had snuffed in its long existences, bodies it had stolen to work its master's will. More, they   
could feel the shadow creatures that were at the Harbinger's beck and call, could feel them all around   
them.  
  
They saw them and knew them for what they really were.  
  
The darkness could not touch them. The power of their bond blazed around them, the vampire magic   
that bound their essence into one rejecting the foreign power that tried to tear them apart. The demon   
roared in defiance, their twin souls blazed brightly, and the Harbinger was pushed back.  
  
Two hands, one warm and slender, one cold and casting the shadow of a claw, tightened around the hilt   
of the Harbinger's sword, the darkness seeping from the steel unable to affect them. They raised the   
blade, moving closer to the giant shape of the Harbinger, who seemed frightened for the first time in its   
long existence.  
  
"You can not prevail," the creature screamed. "We have destroyed a thousand worlds."  
  
"And it ends here," Angel said grimly.  
  
"This is for Dawn," Buffy whispered, her and Angel's joint hands slashing the sword down in a vicious   
arc. The blade cleaved the armored form of the Harbinger in two, cutting through the black steel with   
barely any resistance. The creature howled as its own weapon was turned against it, crimson eyes   
flickering and dying.  
  
Empty pieces of armor fell to the ground, the darkness shattering around them as they hit.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Willow and Tara looked at her with wide eyes, stared at her and Angel. The magic was still thick in the   
air all around them, the spell held in suspension by the willpower of the two witches. Right now, though,   
that willpower seemed on the verge of vanishing as both of them were taken with fright.  
  
Buffy looked down and saw that she was clad in the black armor of the Harbinger, though without the   
helmet. Looking at the sword she still held she saw that, apart from her own armored fist, there was   
another hand encased by black steel, belonging to an equally armored vampire. Angel looked back at   
her, his eyes a soothing brown.  
  
"It's us, Willow," Buffy told her friend. "We're still here."  
  
"The Harbinger?" Tara looked back and forth between them, while her outstretched hands were still   
glowing with the power of the spell.  
  
"I think it's gone for good." Buffy gave them a smile.  
  
"It has left us with some interesting side effects, though." Angel studied the suits of armor they were   
both wearing. The steel seemed weightless, yet solid, and did not hinder his movements in the least.  
  
"I'd love to hear more about that," Willow said, her voice strained, "but we can't keep the spell going   
for long. So if you might ..."  
  
Buffy and Angel started raising the sword again, both of them reluctant to let go. The Harbinger seemed   
to have been destroyed, but neither of them wanted to risk leaving the sword in but one of their hands   
lest the monster might return.  
  
"Let's get this over with!"  
  
#  
  
Spike and Faith had met up near the Bryant Tower, knowing that whatever Buffy and Angel were doing   
down in that cave might make the difference between life and death. Golgotha could be hurt, they had   
found out that much, but nothing they could do would inflict more than a mosquito bite. The military   
had increased their bombardment (probably working themselves up to using the really nasty stuff, Spike   
mused) but the best they had managed so far was to apparently cripple one of the tentacles. One of   
dozens.  
  
Without warning the ground heaved beneath them, the entire island seemingly shifting to the side. They   
could see movement in the vortex hanging above their heads, the shadows churning and rippling as if the   
humongous creature up there was turning on its back.  
  
Moments later they realized that it had not been a bad guess.  
  
Golgotha was moving. They could still see very little of it except its tentacles and the giant eyes, eyes   
which now seemed focused right on them. Or rather on the building behind them. The ground shook   
again as they saw several tentacles pull out of the ground, toppling entire buildings as they snapped free.   
A deafening roar filled the air.  
  
"Tell me I'm just imagining this," Faith said to Spike, never taking her eyes off the monster above them.  
  
"If you are then we've both gone batty, pet."  
  
The tentacles were moving toward them. All of them.  
  
Spike remained frozen for another moment, then he quickly pulled out his com.  
  
"Peaches," he yelled into the receiver. "Whatever you're doing down there, do it faster! The big guy is   
looking mighty pissed."  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 24 - Made You Look  
  
  
  
  
Even as the battle in New York was rapidly spinning toward its conclusion, Golgotha's influence was   
spreading across the globe. Over a thousand years ago the prophet Briar Mathews had written that, as   
Golgotha's shadow fell over the world, the darkness would consume all that was pure and decent,   
reducing man to animal, spreading violence and hatred like plague.  
  
Golgotha's shadow was now felt far and wide.  
  
Even as millions of people were watching the news broadcasts of the events in Manhattan the   
malevolence was spreading. Arguments turned into vicious fights, small disagreements turned violent,   
sometimes lethal, in the span of a heartbeat. Crime rates all over the globe rose sharply as tempers   
exploded and the urge for violence became almost unbearable, an itch that most people found impossible   
to ignore, impossible not to scratch.  
  
A decade earlier the wars in the middle east had finally come to an end as new technologies developed   
by Magitech had returned fertility to a soil that had become barren through centuries of soaking up blood   
and suffering. Now, though, ancient hatreds flared once more and former enemies took up their arms   
again, their minds overwhelmed by fear and rage.  
  
Peaceful coexistence between human beings and the creatures of myth, be they vampires, weres, or more   
exotic entities, had been a fact of life for a full generation now. It all fell apart in a single night as   
massive unrest spread across America and Europe, which held the largest part of the world's vampire   
population, the night lit by torches and bonfires, filled with screams and demonic growls.  
  
In the office of the president of the United States a man sat in front of his desk and stared at the red   
button in front of him. Though the button had become superfluous decades before it had never been   
dismantled, still fully capable of fulfilling its original purpose.  
  
The president looked at the button and wondered whether it would make a clicking sound were he to   
push it. He wondered very much.  
  
#  
  
"It's working," Willow forced out between clenched teeth, sweat running freely down her face. "The   
Ring is activating."  
  
The two witches were flanking the Ring now, hands outstretched, giving their best to harness the   
energies flooding in from the giant pentagram carved into the city while ignoring its bitter taste, the   
putrid yet intoxicating flavor of human sacrifice. Buffy and Angel, clad in the black armor of the   
Harbinger, pointed the creature's sword right into the center of the rippling energy, the blade vibrating   
with power.  
  
"How much longer, Willow?"  
  
Angel's com beeped and through a hail of static they could hear Spike's voice, telling them to hurry   
because something was happening. Buffy frowned, unable to understand most of the words.  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Something about ...," Angel began.  
  
The ground beneath them shook once again, more violently than ever before. The entire cave around   
them groaned, screeching with the sound of shattering rock and shifting stone. Debris rained down on   
them from above, the edges of the hole the first activation of the Ring had caused breaking away.  
  
"Keep up the spell," Angel yelled at Tara and Willow, whose concentration was wavering. "We have to   
complete this or we're done for."  
  
"Oh, shit," Buffy mumbled, looking up through the hole and seeing the source of the disturbance.  
  
#  
  
Spike and Faith could do nothing but quickly bring some distance between them and the remains of   
Bryant Tower. A dozen of Golgotha's tentacles shot toward the hollowed-out spire, black scales   
glistening in the light of the flames that played across them ceaselessly.   
  
Spike yelled and leapt to the side as one of the giant tendrils swept right past him, missing him by less   
than ten meters. The pavement exploded beneath it, torn open by the force the greater demon brought to   
bear upon the poor city, erupting into a hailstorm of debris and violently displaced air that knocked   
Spike for a loop and sent him spinning into the side of a building.  
  
Leaving an almost cartoonish outline of his body in the brick wall he crumbled to the ground.  
  
"Spike!" Faith was by his side in an instant, kneeling down beside him to check for injuries. Spike was   
groggy, momentarily dazed, feeling the pain of several broken ribs, but could not suppress a cocky grin   
when he saw the worry in her dark eyes.  
  
"Careful, pet," he whispered hoarsely. "One could get the impression you still care."  
  
"Shut up and get back to your feet, idiot!" The sharpness of her words was in direct contrast to the smile   
on her lips.  
  
They both looked up when their words were drowned out by the sound of screeching metal and concrete.   
Even in ruin the spire of Bryant Tower still reached high into the sky, but not for much longer.   
Golgotha's tentacles wrapped around the building, effortlessly crushing the outer walls, crumbling the   
structure as if it was made from paper.  
  
"Time to run," Spike whispered. Faith could not hear his words over the sound of the dying tower, but   
really did not need to. Common sense was more than enough.  
  
They jumped back to their feet even as the first pieces of debris rained down on them from above,   
chunks of the crumbling building flying every which way. The ground around them shook anew, almost   
knocking them over again, as Golgotha tore the tower's foundations right out of the ground.   
  
"Just when you think you've seen everything ...," Spike mumbled. Golgotha was throwing aside the   
sorry remains of the tower with the same disregard a child might show for a broken toy. Even as Spike   
and Faith were running for cover as fast as their legs would carry them the circle of destruction grew, the   
tentacles digging deeply into the ground where Bryant Tower had stood but moments before.   
  
For the second time in a single night Spike found himself saying a prayer beneath his breath, pleading   
with whatever god who might be listening to keep their friends safe.  
  
#  
  
All four people down in the cave involuntarily ducked as the ceiling above them was ripped away and   
more debris rained down on them. It was only due to their standing right beneath the large hole the   
Ring's first activation had ripped that they were not crushed into powder when the rest of the cave   
collapsed, tons of rock coming down in an instant.  
  
Angel was not sure how deeply below ground they were, but taking into account the many, many steps   
they had walked down to reach the cave he figured that it was at least 300 feet, probably more. It did   
nothing to protect them, though.  
  
"We're almost done," Tara screamed at them over the calamity. "Just a few more seconds."  
  
The sword was bucking in Buffy and Angel's joined hands, but this time it was not because of some   
malevolent force imprisoned inside it. The magical forces unleashed by the Ring surged through the   
blade and into their bodies, seeming to fill their veins with white-hot quicksilver. Buffy was struck by a   
piece of debris, a large cut on her forehead beginning to bleed, but she did not even feel it. The world   
was reduced to the Ring in front of them, now glowing with power about to be unleashed, and the sight   
that greeted them from above.  
  
The hole had been widened, turned into a crater ripped into the heart of New York by a power not of this   
world, and a pair of blood red eyes were gazing down on them from the heart of a fiery vortex.  
  
"Golgotha, I presume," Angel mumbled into the sudden silence, disturbed only by the sound of settling   
rock and the humming of the Ring.  
  
The greater demon growled, the sound ringing out across the city like a thunderclap, blowing out all the   
windows that had managed to remain intact until now. Black tentacles began to creep down into the   
crater and Golgotha itself was moving forward again, more of its giant form emerging from the vortex.   
Neither Angel nor Buffy could make out its exact shape; it seemed composed only of black scales, fire,   
and shadows.  
  
They only knew it was coming toward them. Very quickly.  
  
"Willow," Buffy mumbled, "now would be a really good time."  
  
A few more breathless seconds passed as the tentacles crept closer, than the magic around them seemed   
to snap together into a coherent whole, a great pressure falling away.  
  
"We're ready," Willow screamed at them. "Do it NOW!"  
  
For a moment Buffy and Angel hesitated, caught in the spectacle above them, but then they acted.   
Thrusting the sword forward into the heart of the Ring caused the ancient artefact to activate, unleashing   
the power gathered from the pentagram once more. The runes set into the black arch blazed brightly, fire   
gathered in its centre.  
  
"Eat this, you bastard," Buffy cheered as the fire burst free, a huge gust of flame exploding straight up   
towards the greater demon, preparing to rip yet another hole into the fabric of time and space, preparing   
to rip Golgotha into shreds with the force of two overlapping dimensional portals.  
  
A giant tentacle snapped up too quick for the eye to follow, right into the path of the flames. The power   
unleashed by the Ring struck the black scales and trailed off like water.  
  
"What's happening?" Buffy looked at Willow and Tara, who looked ready to drop any second.  
  
"Golgotha is blocking the spell," Tara groaned, her eyes tightly shut. "It knows what we're trying to do."  
  
For a moment the world seemed to come to a standstill as the fire from the Ring strained against the   
power of the greater demon hanging in the skies above New York, then the black tentacle slowly moved   
down, pushing the flames back.  
  
"It's too strong!" Willow and Tara dropped to their knees, their faces warped with agony. "The power of   
the pentagram is almost spent. We can't force it back."  
  
Buffy and Angel still stood together, the sword in hand, and gazed upwards. Golgotha was pushing back   
the flames. All its other tentacles had frozen into stillness, its strength fully focused on the battle at hand.   
A battle that the greater demon was winning.  
  
#  
  
Spike and Faith looked on from a safe distance, or as safe as any place in New York could be right now,   
and saw what was happening.  
  
"This is not good," Spike mumbled. "Not good at all."  
  
"No shit," Faith added.  
  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 25 - Army of Shadows, Pillar of Light  
  
  
Buffy stared up, right into the searing eyes of Golgotha, eyes so big one could drown an entire army   
inside them. She felt Angel by her side, his hand clutching hers where they both held the Harbinger's   
sword, and they both knew that they had to do something. Anything.  
  
The power of the pentagram was spent. The Harbinger had killed hundreds of people to build it, had   
snuffed their lives like so many candle flames and poured their essences into this huge conjuring circle   
to focus his foul magic, all in order to summon the greater demon that now looked down upon them.   
They had been unable to prevent him from completing it. Dawn had died, even though Buffy had   
promised to protect her.  
  
And now, when they needed this foul magic to work for them, it was not enough.  
  
Thoughts shot through her mind in rapid succession. The old pentagram was spent, its power soaked up   
by the first vortex it had created. So build a new one. A few hundred lives to save the world. She   
banished that idea as quickly as it came. Even if they could ever make themselves do something so low,   
they would not have the time. Golgotha was here, momentarily preoccupied with fending off the   
weakening flames of the Ring, but it certainly would not wait idly while they tried to fashion some new   
means of destroying it.  
  
No, they had to make this work. They would not get another chance.  
  
"Willow," Buffy yelled at her best friend. "Is there any way for us to strengthen the pentagram again?"  
  
The witch was down on her knees, deathly pale and looking ready to drop any moment now. For a   
moment Buffy was not sure whether her friend had even heard her.  
  
"I don't know," Willow confessed, her voice barely more than a whisper. "The circle has already been   
closed. If we break it to add more power to it the entire spell could blow up in our faces."  
  
Great, Buffy swore under her breath. Needed more power, but could not get more power without risking   
everything. What were they supposed to do anyway? Had they not already done enough? Suffered   
enough? Dawn's face swam before her eyes for a moment, but she shook it away. Not now! Please, not   
now! There was no time for her to break down.  
  
They needed more power in the pentagram, but how? It was not as if they could just ask all the people   
who had died already to just rise and die again, so what ...  
  
She stopped.  
  
"Angel," Buffy turned towards her husband. "Did you see that, too? Did you see the shadows when we   
fought the Harbinger?"  
  
Angel nodded, he certainly had. The Harbinger had flooded them with images of its long, long existence,   
trying to beat them into submission by showing them all the worlds that had already fallen to Golgotha,   
no matter how hard they had resisted.  
  
He had also shown them what happened to the people who had been so foolish as to fight against his   
master.  
  
The shadow wraiths Buffy and Angel had been fighting this last week had, at first, numbered in the   
hundreds. Then, as the fight progressed, more and more of them had been destroyed by fire, reducing   
them to a mere handful for the battle here in the cave where Angel, Spike, and Tara had been seconds   
too late to stop the Harbinger from activating the Ring.  
  
None of them had given that fact much thought after that, especially seeing as thousands upon thousands   
of the shadows had come through the vortex along with Golgotha, swarming across the city like a plague   
of locusts. Now they knew, though. The Harbinger had shown them.  
  
There had only been a few hundred of the shadows here on Earth before the opening of the vortex. For   
the simple reason that only a few hundred people had died in the Harbinger's pentagram.  
  
"They are his victims," Angel said. "All the people who died in order to summon Golgotha here."  
  
"Then these new shadows must be people from other worlds," Buffy went on. "People, beings,   
whatever, whom it killed."  
  
Angel was confused. Buffy's reasoning was logical, yes, but he did not understand why that realization   
seemed to instill her with a spark of hope.  
  
"Don't you see?" Buffy gazed at him intently. "The Harbinger controlled these creatures. We have his   
sword. Maybe we can gain control of them."  
  
Angel shook his head. "Even if we could, what would that avail us? I doubt even all of these creatures   
together could cause Golgotha much harm."  
  
The shadows had been lethal if they got into close range, but they were easily dispatched by fire.   
Golgotha's entire body seemed to be covered in flames. Any shadow that approached him too closely   
would ignite in a heartbeat.  
  
"I don't want to use them to attack Golgotha," Buffy went on, desperate to make Angel understand. "I   
want to use them to reenergize the pentagram."  
  
Angel thought for a moment, then shook his head again. "That won't work, Buffy. They are already   
dead. How can they ...?"  
  
"They are not dead," Tara interrupted him, the blonde witch clinging to the failing spell by pure power   
of will.  
  
"What?"  
  
"They are not dead," she repeated tiredly. "They are frozen in the moment of death. Held immobile on   
the line between life and afterlife. I can still hear their screams."  
  
"And if they're not completely dead yet," Buffy jumped on the thought, "they might just have a little   
power left to give."  
  
Angel looked back and forth between Buffy and Tara, then up to where the dying flames were struggling   
in vain to break the power of Golgotha. The sky, what little they could see of it, was swarming with the   
shadow creatures. Hundreds of them died every time the military lobbed a missile at the greater demon,   
they went up like mosquitos flying into a candle flame, but there were always more.  
  
So many lives this thing had taken. So many souls crying out in pain.  
  
"It's worth a shot," Angel finally said, strengthening his grip on the sword. "Let's do it!"  
  
"Hurry," Tara whispered. "The power is almost gone."  
  
Buffy and Angel barely heard her, too concentrated on the magical weapon they held in their hands. The   
dark presence of the Harbinger was no longer there, but they could clearly feel something else. A link to   
the creatures that filled the skies above New York. The Harbinger had commanded them like an army,   
had sent them to capture and kill Dawn and hundreds of others. This connection was still there and   
Buffy and Angel poured all their willpower into it now.  
  
It was a feeling similar to their bond, yet completely different. Their bond made them aware of each   
other to the point where they would cry out in pain if their mate was not there, extending their individual   
beings to encompass the other. This here was different. They also felt their minds extending, their   
awareness heightening until they could see, hear, feel all of New York, the city stretching out below   
them like a collection of broken toys, yet it was different.  
  
The air around them was abuzz with the wraiths, thousands of them, and they could feel them move as if   
each of them was a part of their own bodies, thousands of hands that brushed across cold water, so many   
sensations flooding in that they almost got lost. They were not minds, though, not another being whose   
love and warmth reached out to answer them.   
  
All they were was pain.  
  
The shadows were screaming. All of them. All the time. Tara was right, they saw. They were souls,   
spirits, living beings that had been sacrificed on Golgotha's altar and frozen in the moment of death by   
its foul magic. Like leaves floating on the surface of the Ethereal Threshold, the dividing line between   
the living and the dead, they were forever adrift and unable to sink. They existed in nothing but pain, so   
much pain.  
  
The destruction of the Harbinger had disoriented them, Buffy and Angel realized, taken away the will   
that controlled them. They still fell on the city below, ravaged it as best they could, but their attacks were   
unguided, random. Entities that had been in pain for so long now struck out at anything and everything   
in the futile hope that it might lessen the pain for the span of a heartbeat.  
  
Now all these shadows felt a new mind pressing in on them. No, not one mind, two. A guiding will that   
was unfamiliar, yet could not be denied. A will that told them not to destroy and ravage the world below   
them as once had been done to their own, but rather whispering to them of a way to save it. To spare this   
world the fate of a thousand others.  
  
Some of the shadows had existed for thousands, sometimes millions of years. Their worlds had been torn   
apart by Golgotha in a time so long gone that not even ashes remained of it now, but even they   
remembered. Remembered what it was like to be alive, to live in a place that was not dead and drowned   
in darkness, did not consist purely of pain. They remembered what it felt like to love, to hate, to want   
revenge at all cost.  
  
They remembered who had taken that world from them.  
  
With a shriek that drowned out even the growling of Golgotha all the shadows turned to face the greater   
demon and whatever remained of their minds and souls blazed with hatred.  
  
#  
  
"What the fuck's happening now?" Faith was looking at Golgotha, looking at the desperate battle fought   
by their friends right at this moment. She did not doubt for a second that the flames spewing forth from   
the crater where Bryant Tower had once stood were their friends' attempt to go through with their plan,   
to reactivate the Ring and create another vortex that would tear the greater demon into shreds.  
  
Only it did not seem to be working.  
  
"We're losing, pet, that's what's happening," Spike said morbidly, the pain from his mending ribs   
completely lost amidst the despair pressing in on them from all sides. He figured that part of it was the   
influence of the demon above them, it was making him irritable and nauseous, but most of it was   
stemming from the realization that they were out of luck.  
  
"I'm talking about that," Faith said, elbowing him in the side. "Look!"  
  
Spike bit down on the harsh comment about to spill from his mouth and looked where she pointed,   
seeing something very strange.  
  
"Why are they all flying in a bloody circle?"  
  
The shadow creatures they had been forced to fight off all the way over here had stopped harassing the   
city and were now forming what seemed like a giant formation. For a moment Spike was reminded of   
the many 20th century wars he had seen, skies filled with fighter planes that delivered screeching death   
by the thousands. What were they doing? Another, more organized attack run or ...  
  
Without preamble the shadows suddenly descended on the city once more, plunging down like birds of   
prey, all of them at the same time. Spike and Faith ducked under the black mass falling down on them   
from above, but none of the creatures even got close. They struck the ground like bombs, only without   
the explosions, and vanished without a trace.  
  
"What's going on here?" Faith looked around. "Where did they go?"  
  
Light sprang forth from the ground all around them, a glaring, crimson light that suffused the very air   
and forced them to cover their eyes. Even if they had been able to keep them open, though, they could   
not have seen what was happening all around them. The only ones who did see it were some of the   
airforce pilots circling above the city, suddenly out of targets except for the really big one.  
  
The pilots had a few seconds to see the lights springing forth from the ground merge into a single, huge   
pentagram, carved right into the heart of the city, then they, too, were forced to cover their eyes.  
  
The gust of flame springing forth from the crater of Bryant Tower tripled in size and exploded into   
brilliance.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 26 - Now Leaving New York City (and Good Riddance)  
  
  
  
"Take that, you bastard," Buffy muttered, her eyes fixed on the spectacle above, Angel's hand giving   
hers a reassuring squeeze.  
  
With the added power of the shadows now added to the pentagram the Ring was humming with energy,   
pouring out a pillar of flame that ate its way through Golgotha's tentacle. The greater demon still   
resisted, pushing against the flames with all his strength, but now the tide had visibly turned and the   
monster roared in pain.  
  
"What's that, big guy?" Buffy yelled up at him. "Is it hurting you? Not used to feeling any pain, are   
you? How do you like it?"  
  
"It's working," Willow said, the witches back on their feet now and glowing with renewed energy.   
"We're forming a second vortex."  
  
The entire island seemed to shake when the flames finally penetrated whatever power Golgotha put   
against them and the greater demon screamed in agony. Buffy and Angel flinched, the sound of this   
giant being's pain almost driving them to their knees, causing their ears to bleed. They remained   
standing, though, and saw that they were indeed winning.  
  
The flames were now brushing past the ruined stump of Golgotha's tentacle and flooding into the   
existing vortex, causing the giant, swirling cauldron of energy to crackle and churn. Crimson lightning   
filled the sky all over New York and the vortex seemed to be growing in size.  
  
Growing rather fast, at that.  
  
"Uh, Willow?" Angel looked at the witch.  
  
"What?"  
  
"This second vortex will disrupt the first one and hopefully cut Golgotha in two, right?"  
  
"That's the plan, yes."  
  
"Well, seeing as it seems we're succeeding, I just developed a mild interest in what will happen to us   
and the rest of New York in the process."  
  
"What do you ... oh!"  
  
Willow was now looking up as well, having been completely focused on holding the spell together until   
now. She, too, saw the flaming vortex growing larger and larger, the fires now almost obscuring the   
giant demon from view. Golgotha was growling and screaming still, its roar causing people all over New   
York to drop to their knees in pain, but Angel suspected the greater demon was actually no longer the   
primary threat.  
  
"The two vortexes are beginning to overlap," Tara said, looking up as well. "When they disrupt each   
other the unleashed energy will be enormous."  
  
"Meaning ... big boom?" Buffy looked back and forth between Willow and Tara.  
  
"Very big boom," Willow nodded.  
  
"Do we still need to hold the spell together?"  
  
Willow closed her eyes again, feeling along the lines of power they had unleashed, a power fueled by the   
pain and hatred of thousands of spirits that had poured their own essence into the giant pentagram. It was   
a power that left Willow feeling dirty and tainted, but it was doing its job. The Ring was channeling all   
that energy into the vortex and did not really need their help anymore.  
  
"I think we've done all we can here," Willow told the others.  
  
"Then we should run!"  
  
No one really wanted to argue with that. Unfortunately the cave had collapsed all around them and they   
all doubted that the staircase they had come down by had survived Golgotha's ripping away the entire   
tower. Which left them with but one option. Climb up the crater.  
  
Buffy and Angel both realized that at least one of them would have to let go of the Harbinger's sword in   
order to do that. For a moment they hesitated, unsure what would happen. Was the malevolent entity   
really destroyed or just dormant, waiting for one of them to let go so that it could then overwhelm the   
one who was left alone?  
  
Then they both smiled. Physical contact or not, neither of them was ever alone.  
  
Buffy let go of the sword first, the black armor vanishing from her body in an instant. Angel considered   
just leaving the blade here, but decided against it. No matter what happened now, they would not make   
the mistake of leaving these dangerous things to be buried to maybe trouble future generations. The   
threat of Golgotha would end tonight. For good.  
  
"How do we get up there?" Tara looked up at the hole. "I seriously doubt that ..."  
  
"Anyone down there?"  
  
The voice from above was very much familiar and brought a smile to Angel's lips.  
  
"Spike, you there?"  
  
"You expecting somebody else, peaches?"  
  
A moment later they saw the dark rectangle of a hover tank, slowly lowering into the crater from above.   
The military vehicle moved awfully close to the still-active pillar of flame, but managed to make it down   
to the collapsed cave ceiling in one piece.  
  
"We can't get any lower," one of the soldiers steering the craft said. "They have to get in from here."  
  
"But how are we supposed to ...," Willow began, only to be grabbed by Buffy and thrown nearly thirty   
feet straight up. The witch screamed in surprise, but she was safely captured by Spike and lowered onto   
the top of the tank before she had time to be scared. A heartbeat later Tara came flying as well, the look   
on her face almost enough to make Willow laugh.  
  
Buffy and Angel leaped the height without any assistance. The hover tank trembled for a moment,   
needing a lot of power to stay suspended so high above any solid ground, but managed to slowly rise out   
of the crater again.  
  
"We need to put some distance between us and that thing," Angel pointed at the vortex," and fast!"  
  
#  
  
The greater demon Golgotha was so old that it did not remember its own beginnings. It had awoken in a   
time beyond memory and known only hunger. It fed on fear and death, entire worlds not enough to sate   
its appetite for any length of time. In its own dimension the creature had annihilated all life, to be left   
alone to starve.  
  
Then it had found the creature known as the Harbinger, who was able to cross dimensions and enable its   
master to do the same. With the Harbinger's assistance Golgotha had found new dimensions, new   
worlds to consume, but still its appetite knew no bounds.  
  
Now the Harbinger was gone. Golgotha had felt him die, had felt its only means of crossing the   
dimensions wither and fade. Still, this dimension it had entered was ripe with life. Maybe that would be   
enough to finally end its hunger, to sate that ravenous longing it had felt as long as its memory reached   
back.  
  
It seemed that this was not to happen. The vortex, its entry into this new dimension, was collapsing all   
around it. Not even Golgotha's power could save him from this, being ripped apart by two converging   
dimensional portals. Across its huge life span the greater demon had never, not once, considered the   
possibility of its own destruction.  
  
Now it was forced to do so. Surprisingly enough it was not in any way frightened or furious. No,   
Golgotha actually found itself looking forward to this new experience.  
  
It meant its endless hunger would finally cease.  
  
#  
  
The hover tank had sat down near the edge of the island, too low on power to cross the river. The   
military had erected a gathering point here, thousands of New Yorkers fleeing from their city and being   
brought across by every boat and hover vehicle that could be grabbed. One look told Angel, though, that   
the island was still full of people. People who would not survive the explosion of the vortex.  
  
"We need to do something," Angel said, jumping off the tank, the Harbinger's sword still in hand. "The   
city will be destroyed when that vortex goes up."  
  
"You couldn't come up with a less explosive plan to stop this monster, peaches?"  
  
"I didn't hear you volunteer a better plan, William!"  
  
"We don't have time for this, guys," Buffy interjected. "Willow, Tara! Think you can put up a force   
field around this thing?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "Buffy, it's one thing to erect a force field to protect us from a collapsing   
building, but this ..."  
  
"There they are!"  
  
Buffy, Faith, Angel, Spike, Willow, and Tara turned around to see a large group of young women   
running toward them, all of them dressed in black and laden with charms and trinkets. They recognized   
the girl leading them.  
  
"Selina?"  
  
"See," Selina turned towards the others, smiling smugly. "I told you I knew them. I even fought together   
with them against these shadow creatures."  
  
Turning to face Willow and Tara the young witch beamed. "I gathered the rest of our coven, thinking we   
might be able to help some more. But it looks like you already took care of things."  
  
Tara shook her head, amazed. It seemed that Selina's good cheer was even stronger than the malevolent   
influence of Golgotha. The young woman's aura was still as blinding as ever.  
  
"Not quite," Willow said, looking up the imploding vortex. "You might be able to help us yet."  
  
A bare minute later the witches were gathered in a circle, a dozen young women overflowing with   
excitement that they would be able to do magic with the famous founders of Magitech. Willow and Tara   
could feel that only some of the witches had the potential to ever be capable of more than simple tricks,   
but right now every bit of power would help.  
  
"You think you can contain the vortex with their help?" Buffy looked at her best friend.  
  
"Contain? No, there is too much power gathered there. We might just be able to redirect it upwards,   
though. Wish us luck!"  
  
"Luck!"  
  
The witches clasped hands, beginning to chant. Willow and Tara were tired, but the infusion of power   
into the pentagram had reenergized them somewhat. The younger witches were untrained, those that   
actually had greater potential unable to utilize it as of yet, but their power could be tapped if they were   
willing. Which they were, very much so.  
  
The chant lasted several minutes while the vortex grew ever larger, now obscuring the night sky   
completely. The roars of Golgotha had faded just as its influence seemed to be receding. They did not   
know whether the greater demon had already perished or simply retreated into the last dimension it had   
inhabited. Right now none of them cared.  
  
"Done," Willow finally announced, breathing hard. "Keep your fingers crossed."  
  
Spike walked up to her, squinting his eyes.  
  
"Really wish I could see your force field, red. You sure it's up to this?"  
  
"Sure," Willow said, shrugging. "Only thing it has to hold off is a little rain, that's all."  
  
The bleached vampire raised an eyebrow, even as the vortex erupted. For a moment they could all see a   
giant shape outlined against the flames, then the shape came apart as the flames exploded outward in all   
directions.  
  
"I don't know what you've been smoking, red," Spike continued, his voice deceptively calm, "but that's   
no rain. That's a hail storm of exploding demon daddy that will cut us into tiny little pieces unless your   
..."  
  
"Don't say stuff like that," Willow chided him. "It's rain because I say it's rain."  
  
"What happens if you don't say it's rain?"  
  
"Then we'll get cut into tiny little pieces by a hailstorm of exploding demon daddy."  
  
Spike nodded, took a fag from his coat pocket, lit it, and took a deep drag. Looking at the approaching   
fire storm once more he exhaled and nodded again.  
  
"Light summer rain," he mumbled.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 27 - To Close a Door Forever  
  
  
  
New York City  
December 23, 2038 AD  
  
#  
  
  
No one was quite sure of the time, but some minutes or hours after the vortex vanished and the explosion   
spent itself against the witches' force field the sun began to rise over the ocean, casting its golden rays   
across the devastation.  
  
Spike and Angel, as well as the vampires from the Order of Tarakan and the other troops the Vampirium   
had sent, retreated into the safety of the shadows. The others, though, no matter how incredibly tired and   
worn out they were, raised their heads to turn their faces toward the light. It had only been two days in   
which the darkness of Golgotha had cast the city into perpetual shadow, but to them it had seemed like a   
lifetime.  
  
"I never thought I'd be so happy just to see the sun," Willow murmured sleepily, her head resting in   
Tara's lap. "Think we can do a spell that will keep it up there for a few days?"  
  
"I wouldn't mind." Tara smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her brow.  
  
"You know," she added after a while, "I was thinking about the magic we used to create that second   
vortex."  
  
Willow looked up at her. "Thinking what?"  
  
"I was thinking we might be able to build one of those ourselves. Not to, you know, allow dangerous   
greater demons access to our dimension, but maybe as some kind of teleportation portal."  
  
Willow tried to think about that, but found that she was much too sleepy for any kind of coherent   
thought.  
  
"Let's talk about that once we're back home, 'kay?"  
  
"Okay, Will" Tara tenderly brushed some stray locks from her face. "Let's just rest for now."  
  
Moments later Willow was fast asleep, Tara smiling down at her contentedly.  
  
Thousands of refugees were still camping out on the shores of the river, as large parts of central   
Manhattan were so much rubble and ruin now. Central Park was littered with the remains of broken   
buildings, many of the tall towers had collapsed and taken others with them as they tumbled. Still, some   
parts of the city had survived intact and even now the first working crews were already busy digging   
through the wreckage, trying to find survivors.  
  
New York had taken a pounding, but the city had survived.  
  
Buffy and Faith were standing at the edge of the river, looking at the dark waters slowly growing lighter   
as the sun rose. The two Slayers were both tired, worn out, left standing by sheer willpower. It had been   
a long two days. Angel stood a few feet away, safely in the shadows, and watched both of them with   
worry in his dark eyes. Spike was by his side, no longer able to mask his concern for Faith. Or simply no   
longer caring to.  
  
A lot had happened these last forty-eight hours, Angel mused. Things that none of them had had the time   
to really work through yet, especially Buffy and Faith. He remembered what Wesley had told him just a   
day and half ago. How worried he had been about what might happen to the two of them should the   
worst come to pass.  
  
The worst had indeed come to pass. They had saved the city, yes, maybe even the entire world. Right   
now, though, Angel knew that neither Buffy nor Faith were thinking about that. The only thing they saw   
was the one they had failed to save.  
  
As the first rays of sunlight touched the waters of the Hudson the two Slayers turned around, looking at   
the two vampires standing in the shadow behind them.  
  
"It's over, right?" Buffy looked at Angel. "We beat this thing."  
  
"It's over," Angel nodded. "Golgotha is destroyed."  
  
Buffy nodded, sharing a look with Faith. Angel would not have needed his bond with Buffy to realize   
what was going through her right now, through both of them. For endless hours they had been forced to   
continue fighting, to do whatever it took to defeat Golgotha and push their human emotions to the side,   
bury them somewhere deep down.  
  
Now the danger had passed.  
  
Buffy walked toward her husband, but stumbled on her second step, Angel reaching out to catch her. His   
wife collapsed against him, shaking with sobs, tears running down her cheeks.  
  
"Dawn," she cried. "Dawn!"  
  
"I know, beloved," Angel simply said, holding her as both of them wept for the girl they had failed to   
protect. "I know."  
  
Faith and Spike did not exchange any words. It was rare that Faith allowed herself to show any emotions   
at all, it was not the kind of person she was. Today, though, things were different. No matter the fact that   
Spike and her were no longer lovers, no matter what they might become to each other in the future. For   
the moment it only mattered that there was so much pain inside her and the comfort of a familiar pair of   
arms close at hand.  
  
For the moment two Slayers cried in the arms of two vampires and the rest of the world would just have   
to fend for itself for the time being.  
  
#  
  
When night fell once more Angel was standing on the edge of the crater where Bryant Tower had once   
stood, staring down into the darkness. The ground had been fused into glass by the exploding vortex, for   
a few blocks in all directions the city had been razed completely. Only Willow's force field had saved   
the rest of Manhattan, channeling the brunt of the explosion upwards into the sky.  
  
Angel did not know how many people might still have been alive here at that time, might have been   
caught by the flames they had unleashed. The death toll would take a long time to calculate and he did   
not care to learn its conclusion. They had done their best, that he knew, and thinking about 'what if's or   
'maybe's would only give him more nightmares on top of the ones he was sure he'd have already.  
  
All his friends were safe. Wesley had survived the battle, though he was a bit chagrined that he had   
spent most of the long night hiding out in his hotel room instead of joining the fight like he could have   
done in days past. Angel knew that some day not too far off he would lose his oldest friend to time, it   
was inevitable, but right now he did not care about that. Wesley was alive today, tomorrow would take   
care of itself.  
  
Buffy and Faith were both out like a light after crying for a long, long time, their sleep guarded by   
Spike. In a few hours they would all fly back to California together for some much needed rest. Before   
that could happen, though, Angel wanted to make sure of a few things.  
  
The Ring had survived the explosion. The excavation crews had discovered it only a few minutes ago,   
not a scratch to be found on its obsidian surface. Angel was certain that quite a few people would just   
love to study this thing, find out what made it tick, but in the last few hours he had made some calls to   
Cordelia and a few other high-ranking politicians who were friends or in his debt.  
  
No matter what it took, they would destroy this thing, even if they had to launch it into the sun to do it.   
With the destruction of Golgotha and the apparent demise of the Harbinger entity Angel did not know   
whether these artifacts were still dangerous in any way, but he did not intend to take chances here.  
  
He still carried the sword of the Harbinger with him. The black armor had faded when Golgotha died,   
leaving behind what now appeared to be perfectly harmless steel. Again, though, Angel would not take   
chances.   
  
The Watchers had written that neither the sword, like the Ring, could not be destroyed. That had been at   
a time, though, when the Harbinger had still existed, when the power of Golgotha had still been   
prevailing.  
  
Angel took out the sword, set it at an angle to the ground, and kicked.  
  
The blade shattered like glass.  
  
  
###  
  
  
Part 28 - All the World to Watch Over  
  
  
City of Angels  
December 24, 2038 AD  
  
#  
  
Buffy sat on the stairs of the Hyperion Hotel's lobby and looked out across the room. Over to one side   
was the door to the hotel's large banquet hall, where everything was already set up for their Christmas   
dinner. They always held it here in the Hyperion, no matter that no one had lived here for the last six   
years or so. For a long time this building had been home to many of them and it held a lot of memories,   
some bad, but mostly good.  
  
Spike and Faith were still upstairs, dressing for the dinner. Tara and Willow had called that they would   
be a little late, they were so busy hiding from assistants and corporate people bugging them about   
important stuff they had to do right now and with no delay that they had been forced to take a detour.   
Buffy's mother, Wesley, and the extensive Chase family were due to arrive soon.  
  
Angel was moving down the stairs, coming toward her. As usual he did not make a sound as he moved,   
but she felt him approach nevertheless.  
  
"How are you, beloved?" He sat down beside her, slowly moving one of his arms around her slim   
shoulders and gently pulling her against his side. Buffy had spent most of the last day either sleeping or   
crying, he knew. For a moment Angel had even considered canceling their Christmas dinner, the wounds   
still too fresh for all of them to be in any kind of festive mood, but then decided against it.  
  
Right now all of them needed to feel alive.  
  
"A little better," Buffy said, resting against her husband. "Not sure how long that will last, though. I still   
feel ... I don't know, all torn up inside."  
  
Wesley and Angel had told her that the Watchers had bound the Slayer to the sorcerers' bloodlines,   
wanting to ensure that the Chosen Ones of all ages would do their best to protect their descendants if   
Golgotha should ever return. Buffy did not know whether the fact that at least part of her feelings for   
Dawn had been mystical in nature made her feel better or worse.  
  
"I keep seeing her face, Angel," Buffy went on. "She was so scared. I promised I would protect her and   
then ..."  
  
Her voice broken and her eyes shimmered with fresh tears.  
  
"I know, beloved," Angel said, brushing a soft kiss on her cheek. "I wish there was something I could do   
to make it easier for you, for all of us. The only thing I can tell you is that we're not perfect, none of us.   
We can't save everybody. We can only give our best."  
  
More than the words it was the bond between them that soothed Buffy's pain, at least a little. She knew   
that Angel was hurting, too. She knew that, during that short time where Angel and her had taken care of   
Dawn, he had taken her into his heart as well. Almost as if they were a family, Buffy thought.  
  
"You loved Dawn, didn't you?" Angel looked at her. "Mystical bond or not, you loved her."  
  
Buffy simply nodded. She had loved that girl, no matter that she had only known her for a couple of   
days. It could not be explained and she saw no need to do so. She knew that, had Dawn lived, she would   
have done everything possible to provide the girl with as good a life as she could possibly give her in a   
world that had cruelly taken her parents away from her. Only now it would never happen.  
  
"I feel so selfish," Buffy admitted. "Dawn died and the only thing I can think of is how much I would   
have liked to take care of her, to provide for her. God, I knew the girl for two days, she just lost her   
parents, and I was having ideas about the three of us becoming a family. What kind of monster does that   
make me?"  
  
"Just human, Buffy," Angel said. "Just human. I know how much it hurt you when you learned you   
could never have children. Is it a miracle that you wanted to give your best for a child that, under   
whatever circumstances, had come to be in your care? If it's worth anything to you, I think Dawn would   
have loved you, too, in time."  
  
"Time! How come the two of us have so much of it, yet we can't even give a little part of it to a girl like   
Dawn? Or a girl of our own."  
  
"We all get the same, beloved. One life, for better or worse. But I think you are wrong."  
  
"Wrong?"  
  
"We have given a lot of our time to others. People that would have died if not for us. Maybe you can't   
give life to an unborn child, Buffy, but thousands, millions of lives have gone on because of you. I'm not   
just talking about Golgotha, I'm talking about the last forty years of your life. Never think that you have   
done too little for others, Buffy, because you have done more than any other person I know."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes, shaking her head.  
  
"I just wanted to hold her in my arms and protect her, Angel. Was that so much to ask?"  
  
There was no good answer to that question, Angel knew, so he said nothing, just held her tighter and let   
her feel his love for her through their bond.  
  
After some minutes Buffy found her composure again, looking up into the dark brown eyes of her   
husband. "Do you think we will ever have a family of our own? Children?"  
  
"I can't promise you anything about children, Buffy, but never think we don't have a family!"  
  
He pointed toward the entrance doors of the Hyperion and an involuntary smile bloomed on Buffy's face   
when she saw the people there.  
  
"Puffy," Francis Chase squealed, running across the lobby as fast as his little legs would carry him. His   
two siblings, Erica and Jason, were right behind him. The rest of the Chase clan were entering as well,   
smiles on their faces.  
  
Buffy scooped up the little boy, who in turn hugged her hard enough to make her fear for her air supply.   
Erica and Jason jumped on Angel, demanding to see his 'grrr' face at once. Laughter filled the lobby and   
Buffy realized with a flash of guilt that she was actually joining in. How could she laugh now when just   
two days ago ...  
  
"It's all right, Buffy," Angel told her softly over the heads of the children surrounding them. "It's all   
right."  
  
Buffy swallowed hard, looking at the smiling faces of Cordelia's grandchildren. They knew nothing of   
Golgotha or the pain of surviving when others did not. They only knew that tonight was Christmas Eve   
and that presents were waiting for them. They would spend time with mom and dad and their many   
friends.  
  
Maybe it was okay to just be happy for a while, Buffy mused as she looked at them.  
  
There was a deep ache in her heart and it would take a long time to make it go away, that much she   
knew. Maybe there would always be some pain, the torturous questions inside her mind whether she   
might not have done something different to keep Dawn safe, whether she had really done all she could   
that long, dark night.   
  
Looking up she saw Wesley come in, a smile on his weathered face, a bag filled with presents slung over   
his shoulder. She knew that the former Watcher still blamed himself for the death of Kendra, her   
predecessor as the Slayer, even though he knew that there was nothing he could have done differently.   
She still remembered their first conversation all these decades ago, the one where he had pleaded with   
her not to listen to the Watchers and let her life be thrown away in a war against an enemy who did not   
even exist anymore.  
  
To have a better, happier life than Kendra had.  
  
Wesley's doubts and nightmares did not keep him from living a good, happy life of his own and maybe   
all that Buffy could do now was the same thing she and Angel had done these last forty years: Keep the   
world safe for children like Dawn, children who deserved to grow up and live long and happy lives.   
They had all the world's children to watch over.  
  
Maybe that was enough.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Aunt Buffy," Erica said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Buffy smiled back at the little   
blonde girl. The ache was still there. Right now, though, it did not feel quite so bad.  
  
"Merry Christmas, Erica," Buffy said back. "Merry Christmas to all of us."  
  
Somewhere in the tumbling mass of happy children and adults Buffy's hand found that of her husband   
and the world did not seem quite so dark a place. At least for a little while.  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
